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THE LIFE AND TIMES OF

OTHER BOOKS BY STEFAN LORANT:

I Was Hitler's Prisoner (1935)

Lincoln, His Life in Photographs ( 1 94 1 )

The New World (1946)

F.D.R., A Pictorial Biography (1950)

The Presidency (1951)

Lincoln, A Picture Story of His Life (1952)

The Life of Abraham Lincoln (1954)

THE LIFE AND TIMES OF

THEODORE
ROOSEVELT

STEFAN LORANT

Doubleday & Company, Inc., Garden City, New York

All rights reserved — no part of this book
may be reproduced in any form without permission in writing
from the publisher, except by a reviewer who wishes to quote
brief passages in connection with a review
written for inclusion in magazine or newspaper.

Library of Congress Catalog Card Number 58-10732

Printed in the United States of America

First Edition

For Louise

FOREWORD

Nowadays, if a man has a sharp pair of scissors, a pot of paste, and a wife
willing to wade through endless volumes of old pictorial magazines, the obvious
thing for him is to do a picture book. A theme is easily found, pictures are quickly
collected, and placed on the layout sheets. A few short words serve to identify
the subjects, and lo! the volume is finished

This book was not made in such a way. It took seventeen years to complete
it. I began it in the spring of 1942 and finished in the summer of 1959. Nothing
in it was left to chance; every item has been thoroughly researched; the arrange-
ments of the pictures followed a carefully thought out pattern.

To map out the chronology of Theodore Roosevelt's life alone took a full year.
Collecting pictures and cartoons to illustrate his activities took five years.
Sketching out and designing the rough layout took another year. Editing, revis-
ing the layout, and researching for additional material took two more years.
Work on the first pictorial draft with the illustrations photostated in the size as
they were to appear in the volume and pasted in position lasted a year. Another
year and a half were spent with revisions and with the first draft of the cap-
tions and text.

After the emergence of the first outline, a fresh search was started for items
which seemed important to clarify the story. For the next four years, library
and private collections were combed, contemporary newspapers and magazines
were read. I saw every issue of Harper's Weekly, every issue of Leslie's, every issue
of Puck, Life, and Judge during Roosevelt's lifetime. Fifty thousand more items
were added to the twenty thousand already collected; hundreds of cartoons
were reproduced, thousands of photographs acquired. To write the final text
and captions took another year and a half.

Problems over problems had to be solved. I attempted to create a certain
pictorial style — using pictures as a writer uses words, or as a composer uses
notes — and this was no simple matter. At times, the pictures would not fit in
the story line; at other times, the story line would not lend itself to illustrations.
It was not only a difficult, but often a frustrating undertaking. Here is one
example of the vexatious problems: how was I to convey the passing of time?
Photographs, in general, do not reveal the time they were taken. A house is a
house, a man is a man — whatever year the image is fixed on photographic
plates. To indicate the passing of time, I made use of two devices — one was to
print full-page photographs of Theodore Roosevelt at frequent intervals, start-
ing out as a baby and following his growth through adolescence, college years,
political career, and presidential terms. The changes in his figure, the maturing
of his face, show the passing of the years. Another device was to place the
portraits of public figures next to that of his — both pictures taken in the same
year. Thus, on one page, young Theodore is juxtaposed with Abraham Lincoln;
on another page, he is shown as a young assemblyman next to a baby born in
the same time — Franklin Delano Roosevelt.

T have attempted to stress the similarities in human existence — the illustra-
tion of the dead Civil War soldiers in 1863 is almost identical with the illustra-
tion of the dead soldiers on the battlefield of France in 1918. There was much
that I could present, but there was still more that I was unable to include. A
volume of this kind can never be comprehensive; in it one can only give a feel-
ing, an impression of the times.

In my work, I had a staff of competent helpers, and I was assisted in the most
generous way by public institutions and universities. In the research for picto-
rial material, Fayette Smith-Scheuch, Liljan Espenak, and Eileen Hughes were
unsurpassed. They found pictures which I could never have discovered without
their diligent work. Mrs. Hughes hunted down and photostated for me thou-
sands of pages from old newspapers. In the text research and the mapping out
of the chapters I was helped by Roger Linscott; his expert knowledge of
the Roosevelt era saved me from many pitfalls.

Hermann Hagedorn, the moving spirit behind the Roosevelt Memorial As-
sociation, answered my many questions with patience; he watched the work's
progress during the seventeen years, always encouraging, always a rock of
strength. My gratitude to him is everlasting. The late Nora E. Cordingley, for
two decades librarian of the Roosevelt Memorial Association sent me materials
whenever I have asked for it. How I wish she might have seen the results!

Robert H. Haynes, curator of the Theodore Roosevelt Collection at the
Harvard College Library, and his assistant, Audrey Hosford, answered my
queries with unfailing courtesy.

During the seventeen years I have often called on Carl E. Stange of the Li-
brary of Congress, Josephine Cobb of the National Archives, and Grace Meyer
of the Museum of the City of New York for pictures and information; my
special thanks to them.

I am deeply indebted to the family of Theodore Roosevelt for their interest
and generous help. I saw Mrs. Roosevelt before she died, and she talked frankly
about her life and answered my many questions. She also gave me a number
of family snapshots, and the Kaiser Wilhelm pictures which are reproduced in
the book for the first time. Mrs. Alice Longworth, Roosevelt's eldest daughter,
was most kind and helpful whenever I turned to her, as was Mrs. Ethel Derby,
the youngest of the President's daughters.

The tremendous job of preparing the pages for the printer was done by
Ruth M. Shair of Doubleday. She attended to the many details of the work
with superb intelligence; without her this book could never have been done.

Seth M. Agnew, the head of my publisher's production department, and
Virginia Muller supervised the cumbersome details of production. George
Carnegie of Consolidated Lithographing Corporation kept a sharp eye on the
printing. My grateful acknowledgment goes to them.

Mrs. Irene F. Weston, my secretary, typed the manuscript, counted every
letter in the captions, and was with the book from the beginning to the end.
Her council, advice, and criticism, though not always followed, was always wise.

STEFAN LORANT
Lenox, Massachusetts

August 17, 1959

CONTENTS

FOREWORD

Part 1. YOUTH

I. A NEW ROOSEVELT IS BORN

II. BROTHER FIGHTS BROTHER

III. THE BUDDING METROPOLIS

IV. THE TRAGIC ERA

V. HIS FIRST TRIP TO EUROPE

VI. THE EMERGENCE OF MODERN AMERICA

VII. A GENERAL IS PRESIDENT

VIII. "ANOTHER TERRIBLE TRIP TO EUROPE"

IX. DEPRESSION AND UNREST

X. THE PLEASURE OF GROWING UP

XI. THE YEAR OF 1876

XII. COLLEGE DAYS IN CAMBRIDGE

103

115

125

133

139

151

Part 2. PUBLIC SERVANT

XIII. AMERICA IN THE EIGHTIES 167

XIV. THE BEGINNING OF HIS POLITICAL CAREER 181
XV. IN THE BAD LANDS 203

XVI. THE RETURN OF THE DEMOCRATS 225

XVII. STARTING ALL OVER AGAIN 235

XVIII. CIVIL SERVICE COMMISSIONER 243

XIX. THE BATTLE OF THE STANDARDS 257

XX. POLICE COMMISSIONER 269

XXI. ASSISTANT SECRETARY OF THE NAVY 281

XXII. ROUGH RIDER 295

XXIII. GOVERNOR OF NEW YORK 333

XXIV. VICE PRESIDENT 355

PartS. PRESIDENT

XXV. THE FIRST BATTLES 369

XXVI. THE AMERICAN EMPIRE 387

XXVII. THE BIG STICK DIPLOMACY 397

I have attempted to stress the similarities in human existence — the illustra-
tion of the dead Civil War soldiers in 1863 is almost identical with the illustra-
tion of the dead soldiers on the battlefield of France in 1918. There was much
that I could present, but there was still more that I was unable to include. A
volume of this kind can never be comprehensive; in it one can only give a feel-
ing, an impression of the times.

Robert H. Haynes, curator of the Theodore Roosevelt Collection at the
Harvard College Library, and his assistant, Audrey Hosford, answered my
queries with unfailing courtesy.

I am deeply indebted to the family of Theodore Roosevelt for their interest
and generous help. I saw Mrs. Roosevelt before she died, and she talked frankly
about her life and answered my many questions. She also gave me a number
of family snapshots, and the Kaiser Wilhelm pictures whieh are reproduced in
the book for the first time. Mrs. Alice Longworth, Roosevelt's eldest daughter,
was most kind and helpful whenever I turned to her, as was Mrs. Ethel Derby,
the youngest of the President's daughters.

STEFAN LORANT
Lenox, Massachusetts

August 17, 1959

CONTENTS

FOREWORD

Part 1. YOUTH

I. A NEW ROOSEVELT IS BORN

II. BROTHER FIGHTS BROTHER

III. THE BUDDING METROPOLIS

IV. THE TRAGIC ERA

V. HIS FIRST TRIP TO EUROPE

VI. THE EMERGENCE OF MODERN AMERICA

VII. A GENERAL IS PRESIDENT

VIII. "ANOTHER TERRIBLE TRIP TO EUROPE"

IX. DEPRESSION AND UNREST

X. THE PLEASURE OF GROWING UP

XI. THE YEAR OF 1876

XII. COLLEGE DAYS IN CAMBRIDGE

103

115

125

133

139

151

Part 2. PUBLIC SERVANT

XIII. AMERICA IN THE EIGHTIES 167

XIV. THE BEGINNING OF HIS POLITICAL CAREER 181
XV. IN THE BAD LANDS 203

XVI. THE RETURN OF THE DEMOCRATS 225

XVII. STARTING ALL OVER AGAIN 235

XVIII. CIVIL SERVICE COMMISSIONER 243

XIX. THE BATTLE OF THE STANDARDS 257

XX. POLICE COMMISSIONER 269

XXI. ASSISTANT SECRETARY OF THE NAVY 281

XXII. ROUGH RIDER 295

XXIII. GOVERNOR OF NEW YORK 333

XXIV. VICE PRESIDENT 355

PartS. PRESIDENT

XXV. THE FIRST BATTLES
XXVI. THE AMERICAN EMPIRE
XXVII. THE BIG STICK DIPLOMACY

369
387
397

XXVIII.

XXIX.

XXX.

XXXI.

XXXII.

XXXIII.

XXXIV.

XXXV.

XXXVI.

"I TOOK PANAMA"

TOWARD THE PRESIDENCY OF HIS OWN

AMERICA IN 1905

PEACEMAKER

FAMILY MAN

BUILDING THE CANAL

403
409
423
445
457
465

CRUSADING AGAINST "THE PREDATORY RICH" 471
WAR CLOUDS IN THE PACIFIC 485

THE END OF THE REIGN 491

Part 4 PRIVATE CITIZEN

XXXVII. THE GREAT ADVENTURE AND ITS AFTERMATH 511

XXXVIII. FRIENDS TURN INTO ENEMIES 541

XXXIX. THE BULL MOOSE CAMPAIGN 555

XL. THE RISE OF WOODROW WILSON 575

XLI. TWILIGHT DAYS 585

XLI1. IN THE WORLD WAR 593

XLIII. THE END OF THE ROAD 619

BIBLIOGRAPHY
INDEX

635
636

PICTURE CREDITS

All illustrations in the book are of contemporary origin;
they were made at the time of the events, or shortly there-
after. This applies to cartoons as well. The source of draw-
ings and cartoons from magazines like Harper's Weekly, Leslie's
Illustrated, Puck, Life, Judge are usually noted in the captions.
Photographs and illustrations not otherwise credited are
from the author's collection.

The Theodore Roosevelt Memorial Associajion and the
Theodore Roosevelt Collection in the Harvard College Li-
brary supplied me with pictures of the Roosevelt family,
photographs, cartoons and letters of Roosevelt. T.R.'s child-
hood diaries and drawings, his picture letters, sporting
calendar and war diaries are reproduced by courtesy of the
Association.

Mrs. Theodore Roosevelt gave me her portrait as a seven-
year-old girl, also snapshots which she had taken and pic-
tures from her scrapbook on the 1896 presidential campaign.
The Library of Congress supplied me with the many por-
traits of politicians and writers of the period, also photo-
graphs of the Spanish- American War. The National Archives
was the source of the Round Robin telegram, also of photo-
graphs from World War I and pictures of Wilson's trip to
Europe.

The drawings of early New York are from the contem-
porary volumes of Valentine's Manual.

The Museum of the City of New York supplied me with
pictures of actresses, social figures at the Vanderbilt ball,
photographs by Byron of the Mark Twain banquet, and the
skyline photograph of New York in 1919. Brown Brothers
have given me some of the pictures depicting America in
1905, the Russo-Japanese peace negotiations, Wall Street in
1907, and some of the photographs of Roosevelt in Europe
and his homecoming; also the photograph of the Newett
libel suit and T.R.'s portrait with Taft. Underwood and
Underwood supplied the photographs of Roosevelt's speak-
ing tour in 1902 and 1903 and his photograph on the
Mayflower.

Eric Schaal is responsible for the picture of Roosevelt's
bedroom in Sagamore Hill; I. S. Seidman for New York
City street photographs in 1919; Princeton University for
the photographs of Woodrow Wilson. The American Mu-
seum of Natural History allowed me to reproduce its
diorama of the Bad Lands, the Kansas City Historical
Society sent me the portrait of Senator Bristow.

To all individuals and institutions my heartfelt thanks for
their courtesies.

Part 1:
YOUTH

CHAPTER 1

A NEW ROOSEVELT IS BORN

The transatlantic cable, at last completed, on August 5, 1858, sputtered its
first message. Victoria, then in the twenty-second year of her long reign, sent
her congratulations to President Buchanan, who cabled back a greeting. But
even these high personages could not ward off the lampoons directed from the
start at the cable. A parody of the official exchange found its way into the New
York Evening Post, evading the eye of its impeccably mannered editor, William
Cullen Bryant:

"Dear Juchanan: I send this by my rope."
"Dear Victoria: I send this to Europe."

One hundred guns at Battery Park boomed a salute to the miracle, and bril-
liant plumes of fireworks emblazoned the skies above City Hall, incidentally
setting fire to the cupola and roof. The celebration ended ignominiously — and
so did the cable. After a few more spurts it went dead, and skeptics declared
it a hoax.

In this year of marvels — 1858 — the young United States of America, with a
population of almost thirty million scattered among thirty-two "sovereign"
states, signed favorable trade treaties with Japan and China and opened a
diplomatic mission in Bulgaria, Napoleon III stood ready to invade Italy, and
Alexander II had just added a large slice of Chinese territory to "all the Rus-
sias." Frederick William IV was adjudged insane, and his brother William —
paunchy and oblivious of the great destiny that Bismarck was forging for him
— became regent of Prussia.

The Ottoman Empire, still swayed by Western ideas acquired during the
Crimean War, abolished feudal land holdings. Mexico's liberal government,
set up by Benito Juarez, was recognized by the United States within a year.
The British Government, also undergoing modernization, dissolved the East
India Company and transferred to the Crown the administration of India.
The intrepid Livingstone was trekking through Africa for the third time. The
Suez Canal Company was organized.

In the United States itself, the Missouri Compromise had been declared un-
constitutional, the Dred Scott decision had affirmed that a slave was property
and thus not eligible for citizenship, and Mrs. Stowe's Uncle Tom's Cabin,
though published in 1852, was efficiently rousing antislavery feeling. Lincoln
had already declared that "a house divided against itself cannot stand . . . this
government cannot endure permanently half slave and half free" when, in
August, he began his debates with Stephen A. Douglas. At Freeport, Illinois, 13

before 15,000 people, he asked the Little Giant the fateful question: "Can the
people of a United States territory, in any lawful way . . . exclude slavery
from its limits, prior to the formation of a state constitution?" Although only
a senatorial seat was immediately involved, the whole country was listening to
the debates, for Douglas aspired to the presidency. Answering honestly, Douglas
lost his chance to carry the South: "I answered emphatically . . . that in my
opinion the people of a territory can, by lawful means, exclude slavery from
their limits prior to the formation of a state constitution. ..."

On October 25, Senator William H. Seward, speaking at Rochester, de-
clared: "It is an irrepressible conflict between opposing forces and it means
that the United States must and will, sooner or later, become entirely a slave-
holding nation or entirely a free-labor nation." That speech clarified the posi-
tion of the four-year-old Republican party and uncovered the fundamental
cause of the conflict: free vs. slave labor.

Two days later Theodore Roosevelt was born.

The Roosevelt (pronounced Rose-a-veh) family in America goes back to
Klaes Martensen van Rosenvelt, who forsook his Dutch rose fields to settle in
New Amsterdam in 1644. Theodore Roosevelt later described this ancestor as
a " 'settler' — the euphemistic name for an immigrant who came over in the
steerage of a sailing ship in the seventeenth century instead of a steerage of a
steamer in the nineteenth century." Klaes and his wife landed on Manhattan
Island only eighteen years after Peter Minuit had bought it from the Indians
for the equivalent of twenty-four dollars. Their son Nicholas was the first
Roosevelt born in America, in 1658. When New Amsterdam, on passing to
England, became New York, van Rosenvelts gave way to Roosevelts and inter-
married with Scotch, Irish, Welsh, Huguenot French, and Germans. T.R.
shrewdly exploited this mixed ancestry: "Ah! So you're Scotch!" he would say
to a Scotchman. "Well, I have Scotch blood, too!" There is a story that he
automatically greeted a Jewish caller at the White House with these words:
"Congratulations! I am partly Jewish, too!"

The Roosevelts became merchants, traders, bankers. Great-grandfather
James, with others of the clan, served in the Continental Army during the
Revolution. When the fighting was over, he opened a hardware store in Maiden
Lane, which continued untier the name "James Roosevelt and Son" until 1824.
The "and Son" referred to Cornelius Van Schaack Roosevelt, who at his
father's death inherited both a fortune and the knack of handling money. He
invested in many businesses, bought real estate, engaged in importing, and
became one of the richest men in New York, right behind Cornelius Vanderbilt,
Alexander T. Stewart, and William B. Astor.

When T R.'s father, the youngest of "the five horrid Roosevelt boys," was
nineteen, he was carried off to Georgia by Hilborne West, a young Philadel-
phia doctor, who was his brother-in-law. West was in love with Susan Elliott,
a beautiful Southern girl. Theodore met Susan's fifteen-year-old half sister,
Martha Bulloch, and was charmed by her. Three years later — on December 2,
14 1853, they were married. The wedding was held at Roswell, the Bullochs'

estate in Georgia. Ice was hauled from Savannah— more than two hundred
miles distant— to make ice cream, served at the wedding reception. Cornelius
Van Schaack Roosevelt gave the newlywed couple a brownstone house on East
Twentieth Street, and there— a year later— their first child, Anna, was born.
And there, at a quarter to eight on the evening of October 27, 1858— while
carriages were hurrying New York society to hear Mile. Piccolomini in Doni-
zetti's opera, The Daughter of the Regiment— their second child, Theodore, first
saw the light of the world.

New York was the city for shopping. At this time, it had a population of
seven hundred and fifty thousand; its sister city, Brooklyn, had two hundred
thousand inhabitants. Horse-drawn cars, charging a six-cent fare, ran on
Second, Third, Sixth, Eighth, and Ninth avenues. More than four hundred
stages — called "omnibuses" — rumbled through the paved streets, and ferries
connected upper Manhattan with the city. The Battery and lower Broadway
constituted the hub of the metropolis, featuring modish shops, theaters, hotels,
and offices. The finest houses lined Union and Madison squares; only a few
mansions ventured onto upper Fifth Avenue.

Lumberyards, brick and lime kilns, stables, warehouses, and distilleries
crowded Chelsea — the West Twenties. The Thirties reeked with the stench of
slaughterhouses, though the immigrant workmen did not seem to mind, judging
by the shacks and shanties that sprouted near by. Upper New York City,
a rocky wasteland, was overrun with pigs and goats. Hordes of squatters, many
of them Irish immigrants, built makeshift hovels here, drank goat's milk, and
fed themselves the flesh of their skinny pigs; their huts they heated with coal
salvaged from the ashes dropped by the railroad engines. Harlem, a self-
contained village, was an hour-and-twenty-minute ride by Third Avenue
horsecar from lower Broadway. It was easier to take a boat for a visit to New
York than going overland.

"The great characteristic of New York," asserted Miller's Guide, "is din and
excitement — everything is done in a hurry — all is intense anxiety. It is espe-
cially noticeable in the thoroughfare of Broadway, where the noise and con-
fusion caused by the incessant passing and repassing of some eighteen thousand
vehicles a day render it a Babel scene of confusion." This already famed
thoroughfare was paved as far north as Forty-fourth Street and was adorned
with marble and stone buildings of "great architectural elegance."

In the shopping district, Stewart's Marble Palace, the largest dry-goods
store in the world, had a stock worth $50,000,000. Brooks Brothers was the
fashionable men's shop, and society flocked to Tiffany's for silverware and
jewelry. The city's newest building, "a noble structure," five stories tall, housed
the offices and presses of the New York Times. Among the many hotels, the best
publicized were the Astor House, the Metropolitan ("with thirteen thousand
yards of carpeting"), the St. Nicholas ("lighted by gas ... As security against
fire the entire establishment can be deluged with water in five minutes"), the
Prescott House, the Fifth Avenue Hotel (soon to feature the first passenger
elevator), and the Brevoort. Throughout the city, rooming houses catered to 15

the less affluent, their rates ranging from three dollars to twelve and a half cents
a week. Guides and guidebooks spoke of the inconveniences and possible perils
of the twelve-and-a-half-cent variety.

The largest and most expensive restaurants were Taylor's, Thompson's, and
Maillard's. Oysters were the most esteemed delicacy; for them New Yorkers
spent $15,000 a day during the season. They were especially featured at
Florence's, Kiefe's, and Delmonico's (which was soon to become the ultra-
fashionable rendezvous).

New York in 1858 also had — despite three hundred churches — its bad side.
Its "odors and . . . malaria might rival those of a medieval town." The Battery,
at one time the city's fairest green, had become a noxious waste, and Castle
Garden, where Jenny Lind sang in 1850, had been degraded into a brutally
managed herding place for most immigrants into the United States. The no-
torious Five Points, though somewhat tidied up, still spilled its crime over the
city. "Its neighbors were miserable tumble-down buildings swarming with
squalid men, women, and children of every hue; liquor shops were everywhere,
and nearly every house was a brothel." And well they might be: a housing
investigation in 1856 had reported that five families — twenty persons — often
lived in a room twelve feet square, with only two beds, no table or chair, and
no partition or screen.

Newsboys "slept in boxes, alleys, doorways, under stairways, on hay barges,
in the coldest weather . . . They were pushed about by the police, and there
was not a single door in the city open to ... them." This hideous state of affairs
obtained until a handful of public-spirited citizens, among them Theodore
Roosevelt, Senior, took heed of their sufferings, and established a lodging
house for them.

Bettering the newsboy's lot was the beginning of a reform wave that in 1858
washed out of office Fernando Wood's corrupt administration, though Wood
was shortly to play a return engagement on the Tammany ticket and outdo
even himself in civic depravity. Daniel Tiemann, his successor for a term,
promised more than he could fulfill. One of the few reforms he managed to
carry through was the dispersal — temporarily — of fortunetellers and astrologers.
Droves of these "witching beldames" (already, the glamorizing influence of the
press was at work) wfere arrested, but it took a pitched battle at City Hall and
the intervention of the Seventh Regiment to calm the resentment of their clients.

In 1858 the year-old Metropolitan Police, successors of the crooked Munic-
ipal Police, were striving heroically to enforce law and order in the rapidly
expanding city. Central Park was being laid out, and St. Patrick's Cathedral
was rising. In line with the general beautifying of the city, Potter's Field was
moved to Ward's Island, at the intersection of the East and Harlem rivers.
Staten Island was the scene of a riot which ended in the burning of the quar-
antine station; with the disappearance of this unpleasant spot the island
became a fashionable summer resort. Crystal Palace, built to house the World's
Fair of 1853, burned to the ground early in October, but not before it had
16 demonstrated the effectiveness of its huge glass windows. And on the day after

Theodore Roosevelt was born, R. H. Macy opened his first store, on Sixth
Avenue, one door from Fourteenth Street.

New York women assiduously followed the mode. Crinolines and hoop
skirts, introduced by the Empress Eug6nie, became the rage. They were not so
universally accepted as at the court of Louis Napoleon: the United Brethren
resolved that "the wearing of the crinoline is incompatible with a true Chris-
tian profession," and Bishop Russell decided that no woman in a hoop skirt
could partake of the sacrament. Men, no more notable for their dress than now,
were bearded luxuriantly: these were the days when "kissing a man without a
mustache was like eating an egg without salt."

New Yorkers read the Tribune (Horace Greeley's paper, and the mouthpiece
of the Republican party), the Times, the Herald, the Sun, the World, and the
Evening Post for their daily news. If they hungered after sensationalism, they
read the Police Gazette. The leading magazines were Harper's Weekly, Frank
Leslie's Illustrated Newspaper, the Ledger, and The Independent. The poets America
called her best were Bryant, Whittier, Longfellow, and Nathaniel P. Willis —
all best-sellers. Longfellow's Courtship of Miles Standish, published in the very
month Theodore Roosevelt was born, sold 25,000 copies the first week. The
historians Bancroft, Motley, and Prescott were all at the height of their fame.

Theatrical entertainment — including oratory — was the chief diversion of
literate New Yorkers. The drearily polished Edward Everett was accepted
everywhere — even in London — as the modern Demosthenes. At the Academy
of Music, performances of opera in Italian starred such artists as Patti and
Brignoli. The theater cherished memories of Shakespeare readings by Fanny
Kemble, and Edwin Booth had magnificently interpreted Richard III. Wallack's
gave the customers their money's worth with a triple bill, Marriage Lottery, Dying
for Love, and Neptune's Defeat, while Niblo's Garden played Dion Boucicault's
The Pope of Rome. Laura Keene's Theater played Our American Cousin (the per-
ennial that Lincoln was seeing the night of his assassination), with Mrs. Keene
and Joseph Jefferson in the leads. New Yorkers also loved minstrel shows, and
troupes like Bryant's and Wood's gave regular performances. Barnum's Amer-
ican Museum, though not a theater, presented its own curious fictions. "The
Bearded Baby," the infant son of the "Bearded Lady," was Barnum's leading
come-on.

"The Bearded Baby" grew up in obscurity, but not so another infant born
at this time. Of little "Teedie" his grandmother wrote in a letter: "He is as
sweet and pretty a young baby as I have ever seen," and he weighed eight and
a half pounds. His mother viewed him in quite a different light. She thought
him hideous — "a cross between a terrapin and Dr. Young."

MOTHER

Martha Bulloch, one of the most attractive girls of
Savannah, was born in 1834. She came of an aristo-
cratic Southern family. Married at 19, she left "Ros-
well," her spacious Georgia home, for New York,
where she lived till her dying day. "Mittie" was a frail
person of delicate health and with a mania for clean-
liness. She had the habit of taking two baths in suc-
cession, one for cleaning, the other for rinsing. And
she spread sheets over chairs so that no stranger
should soil the fabrics. "Little Motherling," as her
children adoringly called her, lacked money sense
and she lacked a sense of time. She never learned to
handle the household finances, nor was she able to
keep her appointments. Her youngest daughter,
Corinne, described her as one of the most beautiful
women of New York City, a blue-eyed brunette with
hair of a fine texture and a skin of "the purest and
most delicate white, more moonlight-white than
cream-white, and in the cheeks there was a coral,
rather than a rose, tint." She died in her fiftieth year.

FATHER

"My father was the best man I ever knew," wrote
Theodore Roosevelt in his Autobiography. "He com-
bined strength and courage with gentleness, tender-
ness, and great unselfishness." The elder Roosevelt,
whose name his son inherited, came from one of the
richest New York families. Born in 1831, he married
when he was 24 and died at 46. He worked hard, but
also had a zest for the lighter side of life, enjoyed
dancing and driving a four-in-hand. He seemed to
have unbounded energy, which came down to his son,
made friends easily, was a warmhearted, affectionate
man who loved people. He was one of the founders of
the New York Orthopedic Hospital, the Museum of
Natural History, the Metropolitan Museum of Art,
the Children's Aid Society and the Newsboys'
Lodging House. In politics he was a strong Lincoln
Republican; in religion, a Presbyterian. "Take care
of your morals first," he advised his son, "your health
next, and finally your studies." And his son said:
"I was fortunate enough in having a father whom
I have always been able to regard as an ideal man."

THE ROOM WHERE THEODORE ROOSEVELT WAS BORN

It was on the second story of a brownstone house at 33 East 20th Street. The narrow build-
ing had four floors. Theodore Roosevelt gave a good description of it in his Autobiography.
"It was furnished in the canonical taste of the New York which George William Curtis de-
scribed in the Potiphar Papers" he wrote. "The black haircloth furniture in the dining-room
scratched the bare legs of the children when they sat on it. The middle room was a library,
with tables, chairs, and bookcases of gloomy respectability. It was without windows, and so
was available only at night. The front room, the parlor, seemed to us children to be a room of
much splendor, but was open for general use only on Sunday evening or on rare occasions."
Theodore, the second child of his parents, was born at quarter of eight in the evening of
October 27, 1858, as carriages took operagoers to the nearby Academy of Music, where the
celebrated Mile. Piccolomini was to appear in Donizetti's The Daughter of the Regiment. His
maternal grandmother, who was present at his birth (as was his paternal grandmother),
described the event to her daughter Susan, in Philadelphia: "No chloroform or any such
thing was used, no instruments were necessary, consequently the dear little thing has no
cuts or bruises about it." She further reported that her newborn grandchild "weighed 8 pounds
and a half before it was dressed." Although to Grandmother Bulloch the little Theodore
looked "as sweet and pretty a young baby as I have ever seen," to his mother he seemed
hideous, "a cross between a terrapin and Dr. Young," a description probably made in jest.

AN AERIAL VIEW OF THE CITY OF NEW YORK IN THE YEAR OF 1858— AT THE

About three quarters of a million people lived in
the city, a quarter of a million more than a decade
before. Half of them were foreign-born, mainly Irish
and German. In the description of Harper's Weekly,
"the new magazine of civilization," New York was

"a huge semi-barbarous metropolis . . . not well
governed nor ill governed, but simply not gov-
erned at all — with filthy and unlighted streets —
no practical or efficient security for either life or
property — a police not worthy of the name — and

TIME WHEN THEODORE ROOSEVELT

expenses steadily and enormously increasing." New
York's northern boundary was at 51st Street. Above
42nd Street, except for villages like Yorkville, Har-
lem, Bloomingdale, or Manhattanville, there were
mainly farms. Broadway, no longer a residential

WAS BORN AT 33 EAST 20TH STREET

street, was lined with hotels, stores, theaters, while
Fifth Avenue, now a paved thoroughfare, was studded
with residences of the wealthy. The palaces of the
rich and the shanties of the poor gave a dramatic
contrast of life in the rapidly growing metropolis.

BROADWAY FROM EXCHANGE PLACE

The heart of the city. Here were the big stores like A.
T. Stewart's Marble Palace, the largest dry-goods
store in the world, here were the big hotels: the St.
Nicholas, lighted by gas; the Astor House, which gave
free lunches in its bar; the Metropolitan, advertising
thirteen thousand yards of carpeting. Here were the
fashionable eating places, the theaters and the dance
halls. Here was Barnum's Museum, and here were
the houses of ill repute, which lured the men of
the city and those who came to New York to enjoy
the excitement the budding metropolis had to offer.

CITY HALL

One of the few outstanding buildings of the city, but
fallen into neglect. The dazzling pyrotechnics with
which New York celebrated the laying of the Atlantic
Cable, the very month Theodore Roosevelt was born,
set the building on fire, burned up its cupola and
half of its roof, and came near destroying the county
clerk's office and unsettling the titles to half the
property in the city. The contemporary diarist
George Templeton Strong observed dryly: "The Hall
presents a most bedraggled and crestfallen appear-
ance, all singed and reeky and shorn of its headpiece."

MARKET SLIP with a view of the harbor, one of
the busiest in the nation. From here hundreds of
Yankee clipper ships set sail to all parts of the world.

JAMES STREET was like all other streets in New
York at the time — badly paved, badly lit, with filth
and garbage in the gutters, a vile stench in the air.

tesfote#*k\ • ' -;^ ,-"

CUSTOM HOUSE

at the corner of Wall and Nassau streets, an example
of the Greek Revival, a solid, firm, and imposing
building. The artist pictured a scene of peace and
serenity, but for a contemporary chronicler the signs
of the times were not so rosy. "Our imminent pressing
peril is neither foreign influence nor the slave power,
but simple barbarism," said George Templeton Strong.
"Life and property grow less and less secure. Law,
legislature and judiciary are less respected. . . . Our
civilization is decaying. We are in our decadence.
An explosion and wrath must be at hand ..."

BROADWAY FROM CHAPIN'S CHURCH

New York at this time, so one observer remarked,
"possessed a large wealthy class whose members did
not quite know how to get the most pleasure from
their money. With singular poverty of imagination
they proceeded on the assumption that to enjoy their
wealth they must slavishly imitate the superficial
features, and the defects rather than the merits of the
life of the wealthy classes of Europe, instead of bor-
rowing only its best traits, and adapting even these
to their own surroundings. They put wealth above
everything else, and therefore vulgarized their lives."

THE FIVE POINTS, the hide-out of the organ-
ized gangs— the Dead Rabbits, the Empire Club,
Mike Walsh's Spartan Band— the lowest of the low.

CHATHAM STREET, the habitat of the Bowery
Boys, a tough gang of hoodlums. It was unsafe for a
well-dressed citizen to venture into this neighborhood.

ONE DAY IN THE SUMMER OF 1860 the Roosevelt carriage took the infant Theodore
uptown on Broadway to a photographer's studio. Broadway — according to a contemporary
guidebook— was rendered "a Babel scene of confusion" by the incessant passing and repassing
of some eighteen thousand vehicles. One surmises that eighteen-month-old Teedie was not
disturbed by the din of the traffic— he liked movement and he liked excitement. The result
of the trip was the portrait on the right, showing a demure little boy, dressed up in his
best Sunday clothes— the first photographic likeness of America's twenty-sixth President.

GRANDMOTHER

Martha Stewart Bulloch (1834-
1884), second wife of James Ste-
phens Bulloch, was first married
to John Elliott, while Elliott's
daughter was married to James
Stephens Bulloch. When both El-
liott and his daughter Hester died,
Martha became Mrs. Bulloch.

GRANDFATHER

Cornelius Van Schaack Roosevelt
(1794-1871) was one of the
wealthiest men of New York. His
ancestors, the Roosevelts, came
from Holland in the 17th cen-
tury. He ran the family export
business in Maiden Lane, lived
on Union Square at Broadway.

GRANDMOTHER

Margaret Barnhill (1799-1861),
wife of Cornelius Van Schaack
Roosevelt, came from Philadel-
phia of Irish ancestry. On Sun-
days her five sons and their
families came to her sumptuous
home on Broadway. At such times
the Roosevelts spoke Dutch.

UNCLE

James Dunwody Bulloch, Theo-
dore Roosevelt's beloved "Uncle
Jimmy," was the son of James S.
Bulloch by his first wife, Hester
Amarintha Elliott. In the Civil
War he served as an admiral in
the Confederate Navy, and was
the builder of the warship Alabama.

AUNT

Anna Bulloch lived with the
Roosevelts until her marriage in
1866 to James K. Gracie. "She
was as devoted to us children as
was my mother herself, and we
were equally devoted to her in
return." She taught the children
to read and to enjoy good books.

UNCLE

Irvine Stephens Bulloch, the son
of James S. Bulloch by his sec-
ond wife, Martha Stewart,
served in the Confederate Navy
as a midshipman on the Alabama.
After the Civil War he lived in
voluntary exile with his wife and
children at Liverpool, England.

CHAPTER II

BROTHER FIGHTS BROTHER

Theodore Roosevelt was two and one half years old at the time of the open-
ing of the Civil War. The firing on the flag at Fort Sumter split the nation,
driving a wedge into every home and family.

The Roosevelt family was no exception. Theodore's father was an antislavery
Republican, while his wife, his mother-in-law, his sister-in-law — all living
under the same roof — were praying for the victory of the Southern arms. On
one occasion Grandmother Bulloch exclaimed that she would "rather be
buried in one common grav? than live under the same government again."
James and Irvine Bulloch, brother and half brother of Mrs. Roosevelt, fought
under the Confederate colors, but the Roosevelt clan was solidly for the
North. That there were debates and arguments about the war in the Roose-
velt home, one can assume. In a letter to his wife, the father of Theodore Roose-
velt wrote: "I wish we sympathized together on this question of so vital
moment to our country." What Mittie answered, we do not know, but her son
noted that his mother was until her dying day an "unreconstructed" Southerner.

The elder Theodore Roosevelt, a "Lincoln Republican," was wholeheartedly
for the Union cause. Though he did not join the forces and — so his grand-
daughter recalls — even paid for a substitute, he worked assiduously for the
success of the North. He joined the Loyal Publication Society, an organization
which tried to enlighten the public about the reasons for the war; he was a
member of the Union League Club's executive committee, which helped to
raise and equip the first colored troops; he lobbied in Washington for the
creation of an allotment commission, whose duty would be to induce the re-
cruits to send their families some of their pay. And when the bill instituting
the Allotment Commission was passed, and he was named as one of the three
commissioners for New York, he traveled from camp to camp and urged the
men to support their families with allotments. As the war moved toward its
close, he was one of the organizers of the Protective War Claim Association,
which collected back pay and pensions for the soldiers, and a founder of the
Soldiers' Employment Bureau, which tried to find work for crippled veterans.

Why the elder Theodore failed to join the colors is not known. In 1861, when
the war began, he was twenty-nine years old, healthy and able, fit to be a sol-
dier. Why wouldn't he carry arms? It is interesting to speculate whether his
son — disappointed in his father's failure — forced himself to make amends,
whether this was the underlying reason for his rushing into the Spanish-
American War and trying to prove a fearlessness whenever an occasion arose.

Obviously the children of the period took sides in the conflict, even though 27

not old enough to understand it. Little Theodore was no exception. He was
against the South, especially when he "had been wronged by maternal dis-
cipline during the day." At one such time he prayed "with loud fervor for the
success of the Union army," pleading with "divine Providence to grind the
Southern troops to powder." He raised his voice, making sure that his Southern
mother would hear his prayers. Mittie was amused by it, but Father told
his son never to do it again.

Theodore's aunt, Anna Bulloch, who lived with the family, relates an epi-
sode from the early months of the war. It is undoubtedly the first character
sketch of Theodore Roosevelt. Teedie, as he was called by the family, was to
be fitted for a Zouave shirt — it was fashionable for little boys to dress like the
warring soldiers. Anna described the scene: "Yesterday Teedie was really ex-
cited when I said to him, 'Darling, I must fit this Zouave shirt or Mamma can-
not have it made.' " At first Teedie would not have any part of it, but then he
said: "Are me a soldier laddie?" And when his aunt assured him that he was,
he willingly took his orders from "Captain" Anna.

The war caused little change in the Roosevelt home. The children — Anna,
born in 1855, Theodore in 1858, Elliott in 1860, and Corinne in 1861 — stayed
in their New York home during the winter months, and in the summers they
vacationed at Madison, New Jersey. And while North and South fought out
their differences on the battlefields, the Roosevelt children lived a serene,
peaceful, sheltered life.

Theodore was not a healthy child. He related in his Autobiography: "I was a
sickly, delicate boy, suffered much from asthma, and frequently had to be
taken away on trips to find a place where I could breathe. One of my
memories is of my father walking up and down the room with me in his arms
at night when I was a very small person, and of sitting up in bed gasping,
with my father and mother trying to help me." Many are the family records
speaking of his asthma attacks, stomach disorders, and other ailments.

The fighting went on — the year of 1861, the year of Bull Run, was followed
by 1862, the year of the Peninsular Campaign, Antietam and Fredericksburg,
and 1863, the year of Chancellorsville, Gettysburg, Vicksburg, and yet the end
was not in sight.

A West Point cadet wrote after the fall of Sumter to his brother in Georgia:
"This war is not going to be the 90 day affair that the papers and politicians
are predicting. It is going to be fought to the bitter end. For your cause there
is but one result. It must be lost. Your whole population is about eight mil-
lions while the North has 20 millions. Of your eight millions, three millions
are slaves who may become an element of danger. You have no army, no
navy, no treasury, and practically none of the manufactures and machine
shops necessary for the support of large armies and for war on a large scale.
You are but scattered agricultural communities, and you will be cut off from
the rest of the world by blockade. Your cause is foredoomed to failure." What
an accurate prophecy this was! But at that time very few in the South would
28 have believed in its correctness.

President Lincoln, vacillating at first, was firm on the basic point — the pres-
ervation of the Union. He saw that the bedrock issue in the controversy was
the survival of democracy itself. "We must settle this question now," he said,
"whether, in a free government, the minority have the right to break up the
government whenever they choose. If we fail, it will go far to prove the in-
capacity of the people to govern themselves."

He was searching for a capable war leader, and his search did not come to
an end until General Ulysses S. Grant was made the head of the Army. By then
three years had passed, three years of anxiety, of blood, of reverses. General
George B. McClellan, who replaced old and infirm General Scott, the hero of
the Mexican War, was himself relieved after his failure to pursue the Con-
federates at Antietam. General Ambrose Burnside had to go after the bloody
defeat at Fredericksburg; General Joseph Hooker, who followed him and
under whose command the battle of Chancellorsville was lost, had to resign
to make way for General George Meade. It was after Gettysburg and Vicks-
burg that Lincoln turned to the man who was to bring the war to its victorious
conclusion — General Grant, ^ne new head of the Army moved with bulldog
tenacity after Lee, fought stubbornly in the region called the Wilderness,
then shifted strategy and attempted to force his way through the peninsula.
He would fight it out before Richmond, he said, even "if it takes all summer."
It took all summer and more.

Under Grant and Sherman the war took on a new look. The days of gentle-
manliness were gone. "If the people raise a howl against my barbarity and
cruelty, I will answer that war is war, and not popularity seeking," declared
Sherman. He captured Atlanta, hunted out its citizenry, moved across Georgia
to the sea, cutting a swath of devastation sixty miles wide and making the state
"an example to rebels." By Christmas 1864 he had taken Savannah.

A few weeks before, Lincoln had been re-elected, defeating his Democratic
opponent, who was none other than General McClellan. In his second inau-
gural the President held out a generous hand to the South; he was ready to
forgive and forget. Spring came, the spring of 1865, and the end of the fighting.

On April 9, at Appomattox, General Lee surrendered his army to Grant,
and Grant soberly advised his troops: "The rebels are our countrymen again;
and the best sign of rejoicing after the victory will be to abstain from all dem-
onstrations in the field."

Less than a week later, on April 14, John Wilkes Booth, the actor, shot
Abraham Lincoln while the President was listening to a play at Ford's Theatre.

At that time Theodore Roosevelt was six and a half years old. He already
knew how to read, and he enjoyed books, especially those which dealt with
adventure. "I felt a great admiration for men who were fearless and who
could hold their own in the world, and I had a great desire to be like them."

REPUBLICAN CONTENDERS for the presiden- Middle row: William Pennington of New Jersey,

tial nomination, as pictured in Harper's Weekly in Salmon P. Chase and John McLean of Ohio, Simon

1860. In the center, William H. Seward of New Cameron of Pennsylvania. Bottom row: John C.

York, the favorite; top left, Edward Bates of Mis- Fr6mont, the party's candidate in 1856, John Bell of

souri; top right, Nathaniel P. Banks of Massachusetts. Tennessee, and old Cassius M. Clay of Kentucky.

THE CHOSEN CANDIDATE

Abraham Lincoln, the little-
known Illinois lawyer, became
the Republicans' standard-bearer.
The delegates in the Chicago
convention believed it was better
to choose a candidate whose
opinions on the slavery issue were
not so well known as those of
William Seward, who spoke of it
as an "irrepressible conflict."
During the entire campaign Lin-
coln remained at his home in
Springfield, where he received
well-wishers and demonstrators
(in the photograph Lincoln is
standing at the doorway), but
kept a tight lip on political issues.

THE COUNTRY ELECTED LINCOLN. As the

Democratic party split into two factions — one sup-
porting slavery, the other opposing it — and as each
of these factions named a candidate (the pro-slavery
Democrats lining up behind John C. Breckinridge,
the anti-slavery faction behind Stephen A. Douglas),
Abraham Lincoln, the Republican contender, won
the election though his popular vote was less than
the combined strength of his opponents. He polled
1,866,452 votes against Douglas's 1,376,957, Breck-
inridge's 849,781, and John BeH's((the candidate of
the Constitutional Union party) 588,879. The electoral
vote gave Lincoln 180, Breckinridge 72, Bell 39, and
Douglas 12.

The figures showed that the majority of the
country was for the preservation of the Union and
for keeping the peace. John C. Breckinridge, the
only pro-slavery and secession candidate, was
supported by less than one fifth of the electorate.

THE SECEDED STATES CHOSE DAVIS, After
Lincoln's election seven states seceded from the
Union, formed a confederacy, and named Jefferson
Davis as its first President. Davis, born in Kentucky,
began his education in a Roman Catholic seminary,
although he was not a Catholic himself. After study-
ing at Transylvania University, he entered West Point,
from where he was graduated in 1828. He fought in
the Mexican War under Zachary Taylor, whose
daughter became his first wife; then served in Con-
gress both as congressman and senator from Missis-
sippi. In 1853 he became Secretary of War in Presi-
dent Pierce's Cabinet, and in 1857 he re-entered the
Senate. Following the admission of California and the
failure to extend the Missouri Compromise line, Davis
was one of those Southern politicians who believed
that secession was the only answer. He desired a South-
ern nation committed to the preservation of the
Southern social order — a nation within the Union.

IN HIS FIRST INAUGURAL ADDRESS before
the unfinished Capitol, Abraham Lincoln appealed
to the South and pleaded for the preservation of the
Union. "A husband and wife may be divorced and
go out of the presence and beyond the reach of each
other; but the different parts of our country cannot

do this," he said on March 4, 1861. "In your hands,
my dissatisfied fellow countrymen, and not in mine,
is the momentous issue of the Civil War. The gov-
ernment will not assail you." But the South would
no longer listen to sensible arguments. The seceded
states were ready to fight with arms for their rights.

THE BEGINNING OF THE CIVIL WAR

At 4:30 in the morning of April 12, 1861, the Con-
federate batteries in Charleston Harbor opened fire
on Fort Sumter. They were the first shots in the
Civil War — a war which was to last four years.

Ever since that April day people have debated
why North and South could not settle their differ-
ences through peaceful means. Ever since then peo-
ple have argued about the reasons that led America
to such frightful bloodletting. The immediate cause
for the war was slavery, but that issue alone would
not have erupted into armed conflict. There were
other important underlying factors. ( 1 ) North and
South had grown into sections of widely disparate
social, economic, and political character. While the
South was predominantly agricultural, the North
had become urban and industrialized. With indus-
trialization had come high tariffs and centralized
banking — each an anathema to the South. (2) The
Northern population had outgrown that of the South,
as had Northern political representation in Congress.

(3) Southerners were apprehensive that in the future
the North would dictate the nation's policies, regard-
less of Southern interests. (4) Southern men believed
the Union was a conglomeration of states; as each
state was supreme in its own right, each had the
right to secede from the Union. (5) The masses of
immigrants coming from Europe gravitated to the
cities in the North, avoiding the South and its slave-
holding society. They were hesitant to settle in places
where the scions of old families ruled in a paternal-
istic way. Thus progress in the South was retarded.
(6) The abolitionist agitation in the North caused a
severe financial loss to Southern slaveholders; each
fugitive slave meant a loss of investment. Southern
extremists not only asked for a strict execution of the
Fugitive Slave Law, but demanded the extension
of the slavery line. On the other hand, extremists in
the North pleaded for the total abolition of slavery.
The discord between the factions was fostered by
hotheaded politicians, by emotional fanatics, until
there was no way to bring about a peaceful solution.

THE FLOWER OF THE NATION COVERED THE BATTLEFIELDS

This is Hagerstown Pike after the battle of Antietam. It is September 1862, the second year
of the war. Thus far, in the main, eastern theater, the North had suffered defeat after de-
feat. The battle of Bull Run at the opening of the hostilities showed how poorly the North
was prepared. Its troops were gredh, untrained, their number small. Lincoln had asked the
states for only 75,000 volunteers. The head of the Army was Winfield Scott, hero of
the Mexican War, a man in his seventies. When he resigned his post, young and ambitious
George B. McClellan took his place and began in earnest to weld a fighting force. But it
took him almost a full year— much to the desperation of Lincoln and the Republican
press—before he was ready to move into battle. In the spring of 1862 he took the Army up
the peninsula in an effort to capture Richmond. But when his outposts were only five miles
from the capital of the Confederacy, he was checked. Compelled to give up his position, he
retreated, fighting a series of savage engagements— the Seven Days' Battles. To the failure
of the Peninsular campaign was added General John Pope's defeat in the second battle of
Manassas. Pope was relieved, and once more Lincoln asked General McClellan to head the
troops. Under his leadership the battle of Antietam was fought and won. But when vain-
glorious McClellan was hesitant to take up the pursuit of Lee, Lincoln dismissed him. The
President would no longer keep a general who had "the slows." He wanted a man of action.

THE SUNKEN ROAD AT FREDERICKSBURG AND ITS TOLL

In the first week of November 1862 President Lincoln replaced McClellan with General
Ambrose E. Burnside, the man whose side whiskers added a new word to our vocabulary.
Burnside attacked Fredericksburg on December 13. It was a mad attempt of a frontal
charge. The Confederates, who had had time to entrench themselves in the city, mowed
down the attackers as a reaper levels cornstalks. By nightfall Burnside 's losses mounted to
12,000 men. In his tent the general buried his head in his hands, crying: "Oh! Oh, those
men! Oh, those men!" It was one of the worst reverses the North suffered. Lincoln confided
to a friend: "We are on the brink of destruction. It appears to me the Almighty is against
us and I can hardly see a ray of hope." Burnside's own officers implored the President not
to leave the army under the general's command. At first Lincoln was hesitant, but when
Burnside and his officers began to fight among themselves, the President had no choice
but to remove him. In his stead he appointed General Joseph Hooker, an aggressive and
brave officer, prone to boasting and bragging. "Fighting Joe" Hooker had no more luck
with Lee than had Burnside. At the battle of Chanccllorsvillc he suffered a disastrous
defeat. Once more Lincoln had to make a change. He removed Hooker from his command
on June 28, 1863, and replaced him with General George Gordon Meade, "the old
snapping turtle." A week later Meade led the North into the battle of Gettysburg.

ONE FOUGHT FOR THE NORTH, THE OTHER FOR THE SOUTH

Now they lie peacefully on the battlefield of Gettysburg, the little Pennsylvania village where,
on the first three days of July 1863, one of the greatest battles of the war was waged. The
Union forced Lee to retreat into Virginia; never again could his Army cross the border. At
about the same time General Grant captured Vicksburg, sealing off the Confederacy be-
yond the Mississippi. These two major victories turned the tide of the war for the Union.

A few months later President Lincoln left Washington to dedicate the National Cemetery
at Gettysburg. The committee for the ceremonies did not believe that Lincoln would be
able to make the main oration, so he was asked only to make some "dedicatory remarks."
The President spoke briefly, his speech over almost before it began. But his words have re-
mained alive and will last as long as the English language. "The world will little note, nor
long remember what we say here," said Lincoln, "but it can never forget what they did here.
It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who
fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the
great task remaining before us. . . ." And he solemnly declared "that these dead shall not
have died in vain— that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom— and
that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth."

FIVE-YEAR-OLD

Theodore Roosevelt as he looked in the
all of 1863, about the time President
Abraham Lincoln spoke at Gettysburg.

IFTY-TWO-YEAR-OLD

Abraham Lincoln, photographed in No-
ember 1863, a few days before he jour-
eyed to Gettysburg to deliver his address*

GENERAL GRANT AND HIS STAFF at Massaponax Church, Virginia, on May 21,
1864. Sitting on the bench in the center, from left to right, are General Horace Porter reading
a newspaper, General Grant, General Rawlins, and Ely S. Parker. On the far end of the left
bench is General Meade, under whom the battle of Gettysburg was fought.

It is the last day of "trench warfare" at Spotsylvania. The Union had been struggling for
the last two weeks, suffering tremendous casualties. Since the opening of the Wilderness
campaign, Grant had lost 55,000 men, almost as many as Lee's entire Army. But with bull-
dog tenacity he pushed on. His strategy was rudimentary — to harass and attack Lee until
the Confederacy was depleted. President Lincoln approved the general's plans and did not
interfere with him. Two months before the above photograph was taken, Congress had re-
vived the rank of Lieutenant General of the Army, a rank held previously only by George
Washington, ^and Lincoln conferred the title upon Grant. In him the President had at
last found his general. "He is my man and I am his until the end of the war," he said.

GENERAL SHERMAN AND HIS STAFF. While General Grant was hammering against
the Confederate capital, General William Tecumseh Sherman was pushing a Southern
army back to Atlanta in Georgia. At the beginning of September he occupied the city, re-
quiring "that all the citizens and families resident in Atlanta should go away I resolved

to make Atlanta a pure military garrison or depot, with no civil population to influence
military measures." From Atlanta, Sherman began his march to the sea, leaving a wide
swath of destruction as his men moved through the country. Sherman's "bummers" lived
on the land, looted, burned and destroyed property as they marched along. "War is hell,"
Sherman's well-known maxim, was proved to the full. By December 22, 1864, his army
was at the shore of the Atlantic Ocean. "I beg to present you as a Christmas gift the city of
Savannah," Sherman wired to President Lincoln. And Lincoln thanked him: "Now, the
undertaking being a success, the honor is all yours." Sherman's success cut into the last re-
maining Southern railroad arteries. Time was running out for the Confederate States.

It is the last day of "trench warfare" at Spotsylvania. The Union had been struggling for
the last two weeks, suffering tremendous casualties. Since the opening of the Wilderness
campaign, Grant had lost 55,000 men, almost as many as Lee's entire Army, But with bull-
dog tenacity he pushed on. His strategy was rudimentary— to harass and attack Lee until
the Confederacy was depleted. President Lincoln approved the general's plans and did not
interfere with him. Two months before the above photograph was taken, Congress had re-
vived the rank of Lieutenant General of the Army, a rank held previously only by George
Washington, and Lincoln conferred the title upon Grant. In him the President had at
last found his general "He is my man and I am his until the end of the war," he said.

'' ' ' ' """ '''

CHARLESTON WAS DESTROYED. Only a
rubble of stones and masonry remained of this
beautiful city after its evacuation by the troops.

RICHMOND IN RUINS. After the Confederate
government left the capital, orders were given to
destroy the city's arsenals, warehouses, and bridges.

THE END OF THE WAR. General Robert E.
Lee on April 9, 1865, signs the surrender terms at
Appomattox. General Grant is sitting at center table.

ENJOYING FREEDOM. Great numbers of former
slaves roamed the countryside, going from one place
to the other, exhilarated by their new-found life.

WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE . . .

The end of the fighting was in sight. It had been a
cruel war, with more than 750,000 casualties. The
best of the young men lay in their graves. The Union
was saved. Yet when the guns grew silent, new prob-
lems arose — puzzling, perplexing, and difficult ones.
The foremost of these — one which had to be answered
immediately — was how the two antagonistic sections
could live in peace. Lincoln told a Southerner: "I
love the Southern people more than they love me.
My desire is to restore the Union. I do not intend to
hurt the hair of the head of a single man in the
South if it can possibly be avoided."

LINCOLN DELIVERS
HIS SECOND IN A UGURAL

On a somber and drizzly day in March 1865, with
a cold gusty wind blowing, President Lincoln stood
before the now-finished Capitol in Washington and
spoke the immortal lines of his second inaugural:
"With malice toward none; with charity for all; with
firmness in the right, as God gives us to see the right,
let us strive on to finish the work we are in; to bind
up the nation's wounds; to care for him who shall
have borne the battle, and for his widow and his
orphan, to do all which may achieve and cherish a
just and a lasting peace, among ourselves, and with
all nations."

THE SCENE IN FORD'S THEATRE ON APRIL 14, 1865

The war was over, the Union saved. Richmond had fallen on April 3, the Confederacy
surrendered on April 9. A day after Richmond's fall the unguarded President visited the
captured Confederate capital. To General WcitzcPs question about the treatment of the
conquered people, Lincoln answered: "If I were in your place, I'd let 'em up easy, let 'em
up easy." On April 14 the President went to Ford's Theatre in Washington. And while he
was listening to the comedy, Our American Cousin, John Wilkes Booth, a member of the
celebrated theatrical family, shot him with a small derringer. Then, jumping from the
presidential box to the stage, the assassin shouted melodramatically: "The South is avenged!"
At the back door his horse was waiting; Booth mounted it and fled. During the night
Lincoln struggled with death; at 7:22 A.M. he breathed his last. Not until April 26 was his
murderer discovered hiding in a Virginia barn. There he was cornered by soldiers and shot.

THEODORE ROOSEVELT WATCHES ABRAHAM LINCOLN'S FUNERAL

From the second-story window of his grandfather's house in New York, six-and-a-half-year-
old Theodore Roosevelt and his brother Elliott (the father of Eleanor Roosevelt) are
looking at the funeral procession as it passes by the house on the corner of Union Square
and Broadway. The city was in deep mourning on that April 25, 1865, when the remains
of the President — after having lain in state at the City Hall — were taken to the funeral train,
which was to carry him over a long and circuitous route to Springfield, Illinois. Edith Carow,
Roosevelt's second wife, who was a childhood friend of Theodore, remembered that she,
too, went to watch the funeral from Cornelius Van Schaack Roosevelt's residence. But,
frightened by all the black draperies on the streets, on the lampposts, and the houses,
she began to cry. Whereupon the two boys, annoyed by the childish behavior, locked her
up in a back room, and thus little Edith Kermit Carow never did see Lincoln's funeral.

CHAPTER III

THE BUDDING METROPOLIS

The New York where young "Teedie" Roosevelt spent his early years was a
city in transition. It was part of the rapidly changing America which was mov-
ing away from an individualized, largely rural society to an urban and inter-
dependent one. The period after the war was an era of contrasts, and nowhere
in the United States were these contrasts more marked than in the crowded
streets surrounding the Roosevelt household. New York was a city of extreme
wealth and wretched poverty, of high culture and sordid vice, of liberal philan-
thropy and shocking greed.

For all its showy splendor, New York offered its residents a life of consider-
able discomfort — and for those in the lower income brackets, great suffering.
The main thoroughfares suffered from congestion. At the close of the war New
York had about 1 ,400 hackney coaches, seven omnibus lines with 300 vehicles,
and no less than sixteen separate horse railway lines with some 800 cars and
8,000 horses. Traffic moved at a snail's pace; fast and easy transportation was
still a dream of the future, as was suburban development.

The state of the streets was abominable. Some of them were paved with stone
blocks, which gave carriage and horsecar riders a wretched, bumping ride, as
debilitating to the vehicles as it was to the passengers' nerves. Cobblestones,
still in use, were equally uncomfortable and, like stone blocks, accumulated
an odorous filth in their cracks.

For New York's slum dwellers — and there were more than 100,000 of them
at the close of the Civil War — urban living meant little but squalor, disease and
poverty. The city's cellar population alone totaled some 20,000 persons; no-
where else in the world did so many people live so closely together. The tene-
ments of the poor had no adequate heating; most of the buildings lacked sewer
connections. Epidemics — cholera, malaria, and others — came with great regu-
larity. The death toll from smallpox, typhoid, and scarlet fever reached startling
proportions.

For prosperous families, like the Roosevelts, life was not too bad. But their
homes were uncomfortable and were tastelessly furnished. Wax flowers and pot-
ted plants — particularly rubber plants — were universal in well-appointed
parlors, and blue glass windowpanes were considered not only beautiful, but
also an antidote for rheumatism. A decorative whim at this time was the tying
of huge satin ribbons around piano legs, while the rest of the piano would be
smothered with draped scarves of Oriental design.

Young ladies were proud of their plush autograph books, filled with poems
and sentiments. The gilt-edged pages were full of good wishes like this: 45

"WHEN JOHNNY COMES MARCHING HOME"

The victorious Union troops parade after the war, in
Mav 1865. on Washington's Pennsylvania Avenue.

In the tempest of life, when you need an umbrella
May it be upheld by a handsome young feller.

Or a more daring member of the young set might offer:

You ask me to write something original
But I don't know where to begin,
For there's nothing original in me,
Excepting original sin.

It became inevitable that the increasing urbanization and industrialization
would bring new techniques to cope with the problems of congested living. One
of the most striking was the huge increase in the manufacture of ready-made
clothing for everyday wear — a revolutionary innovation. Another was the
growth of the canned-food business and the establishment of large commercial
bakeries. Lives of the housewives were made still easier by the new washing
and sewing machines, both of which sold in enormous numbers.

A development of the decade was the apartment house, called the "French
flat," marking a radical departure in American urban living. Until then, people
with means had lived either in single residences or in rooming houses. The
"French flat,55 like similar apartments in Paris, offered the tenant a private
and self-sufficient suite of rooms, with bath and kitchen and elevator service.
The monthly rents were high — $100 to $150 was not unusual — thus only the
well-to-do could afford the luxury. But New York had many well-to-do. In 1874,
four years after the erection of the first apartment building, some 3,000 families
were enjoying the new and improved way of life.

The buildings of the city grew higher — thanks to the developments in pas-
senger elevators. While formerly a house with three or four stories was considered
a tall one, now ten- and twelve-story buildings were erected — the beginning of
Manhattan's sky line.

In dress, as in most other things, the city set the pace, although Paris
remained the original source of fashion. The crinoline skirt, popularized by
Napoleon Hi's Empress Eug6nie, became standard wear in New York by the
close of the Civil War, as did colored stockings, Empire bonnets, and gold dust
sprinkled on the hair for formal occasions. Men's clothing remained solemn
and restrained, with dark 'suits universal for both daytime and evening wear.
The ungainly stovepipe hat continued to crown men's heads at formal functions;
and among the more prosperous, a crease in the trousers was looked down
upon as evidence that the suit was ready-made.

Men's furnishings for everyday wear included stiff-fronted shirts that buttoned
in the back, "choker" collars, bow ties, and embroidered suspenders. For both
men and women, nightgowns were standard bed wear, pajamas being considered
the affectation of a small and effete minority. Long underwear was worn in all
seasons. In addition to his many other clothing accessories, the well-appointed
male carried a handsome gold or silver jeweled toothpick on the end of his
watch chain.
46 For the average citizen, life was often as somber as men's attire. Blue laws

were numerous, Sunday was observed strictly, and the virtue of young women
was protected by a strict code of proprieties. Among the middle class, even in
the urban centers, drinking was often frowned upon. Wine was for ceremonial
occasions only; hard liquors were not for consumption in the home, and cer-
tainly not in mixed company. Divorces were still out of the ordinary — in 1870
the divorce rate was less than one in 3,000 marriages.

The somberness of middle-class life was by no means all of urban America,
for the new rich and the more frivolously fashionable sets saw to it that gaiety
was not excluded from the daily round. Though many of the oldest New York
families looked on with disdain, the theaters, music halls, and race tracks did
a thriving business. During the year following the close of the war, Manhattan's
theaters took in gross receipts of more than $2,000,000. The opera drew large,
glittering audiences of jeweled and ostentatiously dressed nouveaux. Abetted by
the heavy influx of German immigrants, beer gardens sprang up all over New
York. And the concert saloon — a favorite target of moralists — offered drinking,
gay music, and the sight of attractive young ladies at a price which the
customers could afford.

The growth of urbanization brought with it the emergence of summer re-
sorts, where prosperous families retreated during the hot weather. At New-
port, Rhode Island, New Yorkers who found the hotel occupants too unselective
began to build great villas that soon made that resort one of the most extrav-
agant in the world. To the south of New York, Long Branch, New Jersey,
staked luxurious claims as a place of seaside recreation for fashionable society.

Naturally, only a small part of the population had the time or the money
to enjoy resort life. The average worker had no vacations; even the idea
of making Saturday a half holiday was not generally accepted by employers
until nearly the close of the century. So most New Yorkers had to enjoy
simpler pleasures close to home. In winter there was skating at Central Park,
tobogganing on the huge slide at the old Polo Grounds on upper Fifth Avenue,
and sleighing for every family that could afford to keep a horse.

At other seasons of the year rowing, archery, and bicycling were popular,
while croquet became a tremendous fad at homes with the necessary lawn
space. Baseball was still in its infancy, but already it was winning out over cricket
as the national game. Among the city's numerous fraternal organizations,
rifle teams were highly popular, the sport being pursued at boisterous Sunday
outings in the country.

New York, the bustling, fast-growing, hurriedly improving metropolis, was
the background for Teedie's growing years. He was a city boy, through and
through. As he was not a strong child — still suffering from asthma — he was
not able to play and roam around with other children. Thus he turned into a
bookish boy. He read incessantly, a habit which he kept throughout his lifetime.

He also had an "instinctive interest in natural history," and began to write a
natural history of his own, "written down in blank books in simplified spelling,
wholly unpremeditated and unscientific." At the age of eight he was busy
collecting animals, birds, insects, and he always had a pet mouse in his room.
He had a yearning for nature and its mysteries, a fascination for the outdoors. 47

THE ROOSEVELT'S HOME ON 20TH STREET. On the first floor of the build-
ing were the parlor and the library, both opening from the hall. The library had no
windows and, as Theodore Roosevelt remembered it, "was available only at night." All the
rooms were furnished in the fashion of the day with ornate, black haircloth furniture.

THE DINING ROOM ran across the full width
of the house. Roosevelt recalled later that the
chairs scratched his legs when he was a child*

THE PARLOR of the house, with a piano and gilded
mirrors, was used only when visitors came or when
the family gathered together for Sunday dinner.

EIGHT YEARS OLD,

sickly and delicate, preco-
cious, constantly fighting
asthma attacks. An avid
reader, he became a nat-
ural-history fan at an early
age. "I remember distinctly
the first day that I started
on my career as a zoolo-
gist," he recalled in his
Autobiography. "I was walking
up Broadway and as I passed
the market to which I used
sometimes to be sent before
breakfast to get strawberries,
I suddenly saw a dead seal
laid out on a slab of wood.
That seal filled me with
every possible feeling of ro-
mance and adventure. ... I
measured it, and I recall
that, not having a tape
measure, I had to do my
best to get its girth with a
folding pocket foot-rule, a
difficult undertaking. ... I
had vague aspirations of in
some way or another owning
and preserving that seal, but
they never got beyond the
purely formless stage. I think,
however, I did get the seal's
skull, and with two of my
cousins promptly started
what we ambitiously called
the 'Roosevelt Museum of
Natural History.'"

AT FIFTH AVENUI

WAITING FOR THE PAWNSHOP TO OPEN. A large mass of poverty-
stricken people were living in overcrowded and unhealthy tenement houses.
The ships brought three to four hundred thousand immigrants — mostly Irish
and Germans — to America each year. Their lot was not an enviable one.
Work was hard, hours long, wages low, opportunities not so rosy and abundant
as they had seemed from the other side of the ocean. Yet the men came, at
times with nothing more than a bundle on their backs and a hope for the future.

AFTER THE MATINEE

New York with its steady
influx of sight-seers was a
"good show town." Wai-
lack's Theatre was a favor-
ite; Augustin Daly, a former
journalist, offered glittering
productions with stars like
Ada Rehan or John Drew.
Minstrel and variety shows
usually drew large audi-
ences— mostly males. Some
fifteen principal theaters
competed for public favor.
There were excellent stock
companies and great stars.
Tickets were not expensive.
Orchestra stalls sold for one
dollar, while fifty cents ad-
mitted one to the parquet.

AT SIXTH AVENUE

THE BROKEN LEG ON BROADWAY. It was estimated that 8,000 horses
were daily on the streets of New York, pulling railway cars. Traffic moved at
snail's pace. The streets were slippery with filth, the poor pavement was a
hazard for the animals. To stop the abuse given these horses, Henry Bergh or-
ganized a society for the protection of animals. In 1866 he succeeded in hav-
ing the first specific law passed against persons who "maliciously kill, maim,
wound, injure, torture or cruelly beat any horse, ... or other animal. . . ."

IN UNION SQUARE

On the streets of New York
paraded well-dressed people
who imported their clothes
from Europe. The fashion-
able females dressed like
their Parisian counterparts,
while the male of New York
society imitated the upper
class of England. The
"shoddy aristocracy" — the
newly rich who had gained
affluence because of the war
— played a prominent part
in the life of the city, trying
by an ostentatious display of
luxurious living, expensive
clothes and jewels to gain
recognition from the city's
established social leaders.

TRIAL RUN ON THE NEW YORK "ELEVATED" IN 1867

Charles Harvey, the man in frock coat and silk hat, piloting the first car of his elevated
railroad on a trial half-mile section on Greenwich Street, was one of the most remarkable
men of his age. Before he provided Manhattan with its chief mode of passenger transpor-
tation, he was known as the builder of the Soo Canal. Only twenty-three years old, he con-
ceived the idea of building a canal between Lake Superior and the other lakes. This one-mile
canal made a thousand-mile waterway possible — from Lake Superior right through to the
Atlantic. Men of great importance believed that such an idea bordered on lunacy. Henry
Clay declared that it was a pipe dream, "a project beyond the remotest settlement of the
United States if not the moon," but Harvey could not be discouraged. He sold the idea to
a few hardheaded Yankee businessmen, and they made him the chief engineer of the
company. Digging began in the summer of 1853 and went on during the freezing temper-
atures of the winter months. The diggers rebelled, epidemics decimated their ranks.
Yet Harvey drove them on. In two years the work was completed and the first boat went
through the locks. The Soo Canal made the United States the first ironmaking country of
the world. Ore from the Menominee, the Marquette, the Gogebic and Mesabi ranges could
be transported to Pittsburgh, making iron, then steel, cheaper, which in turn helped to build
America in a hurry — a tremendous contribution for which Charles Harvey was greatly
responsible. It is strange that, in spite of these achievements, his name is hardly known today.

BROADWAY ON A RAINY DAY. The city was ugly, uncomfortable, and unhealthy,
a breeding ground of malaria and other infectious diseases. It was badly paved. The New
York Tribune lamented that gutters of the streets were "stopped up and were creamy with
green stagnant matter that looked like vomit seasoned with giblets of rotten meat."

CROSS SECTION OF A TENEMENT. More
than half a million New Yorkers lived in 15,000
tenement houses. In one block on Avenue B, near the

East River, fifty-two tenement houses were occupied
by no less than 2,356 people. On the average, ten
families lived in each house, but "some swarmed

with two or three hundred persons." The filth was
unbelievable, health conditions frightful, infant mor-
tality enormous. "The dwellers in the tenement

adjoining ours," wrote an irate observer, "who had
lived there 28 years, had had 11 children born to
them, of whom two pale boys were the survivors."

IMMIGRANTS ARRIVE

It was at Castle Garden that
the men and women who
came to America were proc-
essed by immigration author-
ities. Originally Castle Garden
was a fort, built in 1811 to
defend New York. At that time
its name was Fort Clinton.
Conveyed to the federal gov-
ernment in 1824, it became a
place where social functions
were held. Between 1855 and
1890 the garden was a clear-
ing station for immigrants.

THE FAMILY RELAXES

The middle-class New Yorker
usually stayed at home in the
evening and played parlor
games. The homes of the more
well-to-do were large but un-
comfortable. Ugly and elabo-
rate pieces of furniture, heavy
curtains and draperies made
the rooms solemn and pomp-
ous. With their bric-a-brac
and sentimental groups of
Rogers statuary, parlors often
resembled cheap china shops
rather than gracious rooms
designed for family living.

INDIGNATION MEETING

The blue laws against serving
alcoholic beverages on Sunday
were strictly observed. The
Germans and the Irish fought
these laws as unfair. The for-
mer were especially wrought
up as they could not bring
their families to the Biergartens
on Sundays. Indignation meet-
ings were held in bars, and
speakers harangued against
the rich, who could have liquor
in their clubs and spacious
homes while the unhappy poor
had to get along without it.

A CONCERT IN CENTRAL PARK. It took ten years of toil and almost ten million
dollars before the barren and rocky wilderness of more than eight hundred acres between
59th and 125th streets was transformed into a beautiful pleasure park. Designed by
Frederick Law Olmstead and Calvert Vaux, and virtually completed at the end of the Civil
War, Central Park was the common meeting ground of New Yorkers. Here class barriers
were down, here rich and poor alike were welcome. In the winter it was fashionable to
skate on the pond, in summer to promenade on the Mall. One could watch the passing of
the fast trotting horses drawing buggies, broughams, landaus. And if one's means were
moderate, one could still rent an open dray and drive around the paths. In the warm
months promenade concerts were given in the pagoda-like music pavilion, to which the
wealthy came in carriages and listened from the terrace of the nearby Casino, where they
could enjoy a meal at the same time. Others heard the concerts from benches, from rented
canopied rustic chairs, or simply by sitting on the grass. On occasion, the attendance at
these concerts ran into astonishing figures. It was recorded that as many as forty or fifty
thousand people were listening to the music. When this was the case the horsecar lines,
which financed the venture, raked in a handsome profit on their musical investment.

THE OPULENT B

of Adah Isaacs Menkc
admired by men of al!
Prodigal in love ai
friendships, she woi
hearts of prominent
among them Alex
Dumas the elder an
poet Swinburne.
Menken" startled Ne>
when she appeared
play Ma&ppa on hors<
clad only in flcsh-c<
tights. Her scanty co
was the thrill of th<
Grandfather was still t
about it fifty years

SEX COMES TO AMERICA

THE LYDIA THOMPSON GIRLS were the
sensation of New York in 1868. When The Black
Crook, a musical extravaganza which exhibited the
female form in close-fitting tights, turned into an
enormous success, girl shows became the vogue.
Audiences filled Niblo's Theatre where The Black
Crook was played for sixteen consecutive months
during 1866 and 1867. The following year the
English Lydia Thompson brought some British girls
to New York, who were not only shapely but radi-
antly blond. And this in a city of brunettes. The
Lydia Thompson girls showed America that girls
from the Old Country had everything the American
girls had, and even a little bit more. Overnight they

became the toast of the town. The main topic of
conversation in oyster houses, in clubs, and in offices
was the dazzling blondes and their curves. The New
York Times was alarmed. In its opinion the "whole
blonde business" was a "licentious exhibition" which
could only lead to the demoralization of the theater.
"If this style of art is permitted to ride rampant much
longer, it must eventually make extinct, as it is
now doing, the old school of artists, and apply the
torch to the dramatic pile," said the Times. The
Lydia Thompson troupe were the first real show
girls; they brought sex to the American stage — a
commodity which has shown its endurance and
which has remained with us even to the present day.

RIME AND MUST BE

MADE ODIOUS, AND 7BAITO

.MUST BE PUNISHF

, DOST THOU MOCK ME.

woMto jut** v; aw*'. * aatumj* uVt

CHAPTER IV

THE TRAGIC ERA

The years following the war were uneventful in the life of Theodore Roose-
velt. He was too young to be aware of the tremendous political issues which
were in ferment and which were fought out between President and Congress.

These dark and tragic years brought new prosperity to the North, but
poverty and humiliation to the South. The Radical Republicans in Congress
were determined to punish the "conquered provinces." Their Reconstruction
Acts caused resentment and bitterness. Though the era of reconstruction was
short — not more than a dozen years — its evils and hatreds lingered on in the
South for decades to come.

On no man did the weight of Lincoln's passing fall more heavily than on
Andrew Johnson, the Tennessee Democrat who had remained loyal to the
Union and had been selected as the President's running mate in 1864. Johnson
pledged to continue Lincoln's policies, to bind up the nation's wounds without
hatred or vindictiveness. But the Radical Republicans, a strong and influential
group within the Republican party, wanted to use the South's defeat as a
political weapon; they wanted Republican dominance over the Democrats.
Headed by Thaddeus Stevens, they had been hostile to Lincoln; and when
Lincoln died, they hoped that Johnson would more easily be bent to their will.

But Andrew Johnson's background was not that of a man who would readily
yield to pressure. He was born in poverty, and his formal education was negli-
gible. At an early age he moved from North Carolina to Tennessee, where he
earned his living as a tailor. Fond of political debates, he sided with the
Southern poor whites. He reflected their bitterness at the slaveholding aristoc-
racy and at the Whig organization through which this class exercised political
control. A driving ambition enabled him to compensate for his lack of formal
schooling; while plying his trade, a hired man read to him for fifty cents a day.
Later, when he married, his wife taught him to read.

It was inevitable that Johnson should have been drawn into politics, and it
was not long before he became one of the most powerful Democrats in his state.
The outbreak of the war found him in the Senate of the United States. Al-
though in 1860 he supported Breckinridge, the secession candidate, he could
not countenance the breaking up of the Union. He was now squarely behind
Lincoln. He said: "I voted against him; I spoke against him; I spent my money
to defeat him. But I still love my country; I love the Constitution; I intend to
insist on its guarantees. There and there alone I intend to plant myself, with
the confident hope and belief that if the Union remains together, in less than
four years the now triumphant party will be overthrown." In four years 61

A THOMAS NAST CARTOON LAM-
POONING PRESIDENT JOHNSON

the same Andrew Johnson became Abraham Lincoln's Vice-President.

His program of reconstruction differed little from that of his predecessor. It
was a liberal plan aimed at bringing the Southern states back into the family
quickly and without penalties. It called for appointment of a provisional gov-
ernor in each of the seceded states, a governor with power to call a constitu-
tional convention. Once the delegates to these conventions had agreed to
abolish slavery and invalidate their ordinances of secession, they were to be
free to organize their states within the provisions of the federal Constitution.
Johnson's plan specifically gave the states the privilege of deciding who could
vote and who could not, although he added to this his recommendation that
Negroes who were able to read and write or who owned property should be
enfranchised along with whites.

These magnanimous terms, gratefully received in the South, aroused the
fury of the Radical Republicans. For many Radicals, the first and foremost
objective was to ensure Republican supremacy by giving the Negroes the
ballot and keeping the "disloyal" Southern Democrats from the polls.

The Radicals argued: "When the government decided that the Negro was
fit to carry a gun to shoot rebels down, it thereby pledged itself irrevocably to
give him the ballot to vote rebels down." For many rational and humanitarian
Northerners the idea of Negro suffrage seemed inseparable from emancipation.
The powerful Union League Club of New York, which had been instrumental in
helping runaway slaves to find freedom before the war, now devoted itself to
the suffrage cause, sending organizers among the Southern Negroes to kindle
their hatred of their former masters and to stiffen their determination to win
equal rights. The Freedmen's Bureau, with offices throughout the South,
tended to work toward the same end as it carried out its prescribed function
of aiding the Negroes to adapt themselves to freedom.

The South was alarmed by the demand for Negro suffrage. For more than
two centuries the Negro had been a chattel, with a legal status scarcely above
that of livestock. To accept him as a political equal — with the implication of
social equality as well — was a frightening thought. Southerners knew that the
great majority of Negroes were not yet ready for the rights of citizenship. As
slaves, most of them had been kept in a state of unlettered ignorance and were
scarcely better equipped to vote intelligently than their forefathers who were
brought to America from the jungles of Africa.

Taking full advantage of President Johnson's proposals, most of the former
Confederate states had organized under the terms of his plan by the end of
1865, sending to Washington their representatives.

In Congress the leader of Johnson's Radical opposition was Thaddeus
Stevens, one of the most enigmatic characters in American history. Lame from
birth, he was a man of great brilliance and bitterness. He was born in poverty
in Vermont, and early formed a deep hatred for aristocracy in all forms, but
particularly in the form of the Southern slaveholders. To him the Civil War
was an opportunity for crushing the hated class. An inveterate gambler, Stevens
62 made and lost two fortunes in the iron industry. He lived with a mulatto house-

keeper and never denied reports that she was his mistress. When the war closed,
he was seventy-three years old and so infirm that he often attended sessions of
Congress racked with pain. He appeared to have voluminous black hair, but
once when an abolitionist woman asked for a lock of it, he smilingly removed
his wig and handed it to her. He kept his sardonic humor until the last. When,
on his deathbed, a friend expressed concern over his appearance, Stevens coined
the bon mot: "It is not my appearance but my disappearance that troubles me."

With his own reconstruction plan well along toward fulfillment, Johnson
reported his progress to Congress late in 1865. His message, ably written by
George Bancroft, the historian, presented the doctrine that the Confederate
states had never ceased to exist as states but had been in a condition of legal
suspension from which they should now be restored as quickly as possible. This
argument ran headlong into Stevens' contention that the Confederate states
had lost their legal status by seceding and must be considered for the present
as conquered provinces without the protection of the federal Constitution — a
contention designed to answer Johnson's claim that he could not enforce Negro
suffrage because the Constitution left voting questions up to the states. Speaking
in the House of Representatives, Stevens stated frankly: "I think there would
always be enough Union men in the South, aided by the blacks, to divide the
representation and thus continue Republican ascendancy."

The Radicals created a joint House-Senate Committee on Reconstruction
to do away with Johnson's plan and replace it with their own. At first it looked
as though the President might be able to stem the tide of the opposition, for
when he vetoed a bill to extend and expand the powers of the Freedmen's
Bureau, he was sustained by a small margin in the Senate. But his victory was
short-lived. His subsequent veto of the Civil Rights Bill, which sought to
guarantee equal privileges for Negroes, was not sustained. From then on, the
Radicals were in the driver's seat.

As the mid-term elections of 1868 were approaching, Johnson set out on a
speaking tour in an effort to convince the country of the soundness of his
policies. The trip was a failure. The election repudiated Johnson; it gave the
Radicals the vote; they had comfortable majorities in both houses of Congress.

Stevens now was able to force through Congress a new reconstruction plan.
Five military districts were set up in the South, each one placed under
an Army general, and provision made for constitutional conventions to be con-
ducted under Northern auspices. All Negroes were given the right to vote, but
the vote was to be withheld from those whites who had been disloyal to the
Union. Federal troops would not be withdrawn from any state until its con-
stitution had been approved by Congress and until the Fourteenth Amendment
— forbidding the abridgment of citizenship privileges — had been ratified by <he
state. And even after these conditions had been met, the state could be repre-
sented in Congress only by such representatives as would swear that they had
never voluntarily given aid to the Confederate cause. These were harsh terms.
When a Republican told Thaddeus Stevens that he was conscience-stricken
over such measures, Stevens would have no such nonsense. He replied: 63

"Conscience! Tell your conscience to go to the devil, and follow the party line."

The Radicals* reconstruction program was passed over Johnson's veto, as
was the Tenure of Office Act, which tried to tie the President's hands by mak-
ing it a criminal offense for him to remove without Senate approval any civil
officeholder whom he had appointed.

It was the Tenure of Office Act which became the focal point for the
increasingly strong Radical demand for Johnson's impeachment. When John-
son dismissed Edwin Stanton, the Secretary of War and a man who v^orked
closely with the Radicals, Thaddeus Stevens offered the resolution to impeach
the President. Eleven counts were drawn up against Johnson, nine of them
dealing with the Stanton removal, which, it was charged, violated the Tenure
of Office Act. The trial that followed was a political spectacle of first magni-
tude, with bribes offered and votes canvassed as though in a party caucus. And
when it was over, Johnson had escaped impeachment by a single vote.

To keep the freedmen from following the political leadership of their former
masters, the Radicals used all kinds of methods to wean the Negroes away
from them. Representatives of the Union League promised them "forty acres
and a mule." Others offered even more. As the time arrived to register them
as voters, the vast majority of former slaves had been convinced that their
dreams for a better life could be realized only through the Republican party.

The constitutional conventions in the South were dominated by Negroes
(who comprised a majority of the voters in five of the ten states), by "carpet-
baggers" and "scalawags." ("Carpetbaggers" was a nickname for Northerners
who came to the South in search of political fortunes, with their entire possessions
in their carpetbags; "scalawags" was a hated term describing the Southern
whites who allied themselves with the Negroes.) They quickly assumed the po-
sitions of leadership. When the state constitutions prepared by these conven-
tions were submitted to the voters, many of the whites stayed away from the
polls. But the Radicals drew the Negroes in such overwhelming numbers to
the ballot box that they were able to get the majority ratification. The seven
Southern states which were readmitted to the Union before the 1868 presi-
dential election were all in the Republican column.

In some instances the new constitutions were well-drawn documents, more
democratic than the on& before the war. But their potentialities were largely
dissipated by the corrupt and incompetent officials who were placed in office
by the first elections. The highest elective posts went to carpetbaggers, and the
lesser offices were distributed among scalawags and Negroes who were far
from the best representatives of the freedmen. The new officialdom, moreover,
was in a unique position to pursue policies of political irresponsibility, for
most of them were men of little property and even less education. In Louisiana,
for example, only ten of the new members of the legislature were taxpayers,
and in Georgia the total amount of taxes paid by all representatives in both
houses of the legislature amounted to but $100.

Under these circumstances, it was natural enough that the new governments
64 tended toward confiscatory legislation and corrupt administration, producing

an orgy of misgovernment. Tax rates rose steeply, at the very time when prop-
erty owners were trying desperately to get back on their feet.

In such an atmosphere the presidential election of 1868 was held. Leading
Republican politicians had decided on General Grant, while the Democrats
named Horatio Seymour, the former governor of New York. That Grant
would win the election was never in doubt. The electorate cared little that he
knew nothing about public affairs, that he had only voted once in his life, that
he was a poor speaker and not much of a thinker. And the people cared less
that the Democratic candidate had all the qualifications for the high office,
that Seymour was a profound student of politics, a polished orator, and an ex-
perienced administrator. They wanted Grant and no arguments.

The main issue of the campaign was reconstruction. The Republicans took
a strong stand for the Reconstruction Acts, while the Democrats maintained
that their opponents had "subjected 10 states, in the time of profound peace,
to military despotism and Negro supremacy." On the question of Negro suf-
frage the Republican platform presented two faces, insisting on suffrage in the
South but stating that in tue North it was a matter for each state to decide in-
dividually. A campaign jingle reflected the feelings of many Southerners:

To every Southern river shall Negro suffrage come,

But not to fair New England, for that's too close to home.

As expected, General Grant won the election.

The harsh reconstruction program, continued under Grant's term, produced
organized resistance in the South. The Ku Klux Klan — at first a harmless
organization with no particular program — became an instrument in the hand
of Southerners who desired to discipline the Negroes and the carpetbaggers.
By 1 869 atrocities against Negroes became frequent. Murders, whippings, and
tortures were the order of the day, with gangs of white-robed Klansmen rid-
ing the countryside at night to terrorize those whom they felt to be responsible
for the South's degradation. In the fall of 1869 the more responsible leaders of
the Klan and the several similar organizations that had sprung up attempted
to disband the lawless elements, but their efforts were unsuccessful.

The Radical reconstruction policies fomented vigorous resistance in the
South. The whites, determined to end military control of their government,
began to organize themselves to best political advantage and to place increas-
ing emphasis on nonviolent tactics to restore home rule. In state after state the
conservatives, operating through the Democratic party, regained control of
the government, driving the carpetbaggers and scalawags into retirement.
Their efforts were greatly aided by the split in the Republican ranks and by
the fact that Northern leniency became greater as the Civil War hatreds were
gradually soothed by time.

When Theodore Roosevelt grew up, he learned what disastrous results the
Radicals had reaped for the Republican party. Instead of securing the South-
ern and Negro vote, they had created a "Solid South," the main Democratic
bastion for generations to come. 65

rn< o<u*rr P * a \y : mfr wars*:

rcmcor

JOHNSON'S
"SWING AROUND
THE CIRCLE"

President Johnson, in his attempt to
continue Lincoln's magnanimous
policies toward the South, incurred
the enmity of the Radical Republi-
cans, who advocated severe measures
against the "conquered provinces."
The fateful struggle between the
President and Congress reached a
peak in the mid-term election of
1866. Johnson set out from Wash?
ington in a "swing around the
circle," traveling as far as Chicago,
trying to convince the electorate of
the soundness of his policies. The
Radicals organized demonstrations
against him, hecklers roused his ire
and goaded him into intemperate
utterances; newspapers fought him,
charging him with drunkenness, car-
toonists ridiculed him mercilessly, as
the artist Thomas Nast has done in
this cartoon. Johnson's trip ended
in dismal failure; the election upheld
the Radicals, who carried both
houses of Congress by great major-
ities. They now were given the man-
date to carry out their harsh recon-
struction policies in the South.

MILITARY COMMANDERS IN THE SOUTH

In 1867 the Radical Republicans passed three Re-
construction Acts which divided the area of the ten
Southern states (Tennessee had already ratified the
Fourteenth Amendment and was restored to its full
privileges) into five military districts, with a major

general in command of each district. The contempo-
rary drawing from Harper's Weekly shows General
Daniel E. Sickles, General John Pope, General
George H. Thomas, General U. S. Grant, Brevet
Major General John M. Schofield, General Philip
Sheridan, and Brevet Major General E. O. C. Ord.

REGISTERING. The Re-
construction Acts of 1867
gave the vote to the former
slaves. They now had equal
rights with the whites. They
flocked to the registration
offices, where officials of the
military governments read
to them their new privileges.
Southerners were enraged
and humiliated. While the
former slaves were given the
suffrage, only those whites
who were willing to swear
that they had not voluntar-
ily joined the Confederate
Army were allowed to vote.

THE FIRST VOTE. In the state elections of 1867
the Negroes voted for the first time, outnumbering
the whites. The political campaign of the Radical
Republicans made it certain that the new voters
would cast their ballots for the Republican candi-
dates. The freedmen listened to inflammatory speeches
about their former masters, listened to promises of
"forty acres and a mule." Not yet mature enough to
exercise their political rights, the former slaves voted

as they were told. They voted for carpetbaggers
(Northern men who came to the South to pursue
political careers, most of their possessions in their
carpetbags); they voted for "scalawags'* (Southern
whites who allied themselves with the Republicans);
they voted for illiterate Negroes; they voted for men
who promised them the stars from heaven. The re-
sults of the elections were corrupt governments, enor-
mous state debts, and a hostile white population.

CARPETBAG LEGISLATURES IN THE SOUTH

The composite photograph shows the Radical Republican members of the South Carolina
Legislature in 1868. That unhappy state, with a legislature made up largely of Negroes un-
able to read or write, found itself milked dry by graft and extravagance. School funds were
stolen; businesses had to make direct payments to public officials for permits and franchises;
payrolls were padded. In the State House barroom the average daily consumption for a legis-
lator was a gallon of liquor; some lawmakers staggered into the chamber, wholly drunk.

THE REACTION TO CARPETBAG RULE.

The Ku Klux Klan, at first a harmless organization,
turned into a vicious instrument in the hands of hood-
lums who acquired control of many of the Klan's
local branches. Atrocities against Negroes, murders,
whippings, and tortures became the order of the day.

THE KLAN AT WORK

The assassination of G. W. Ash-
burn in Columbus, Georgia, on
March 31, 1868, as it seemed to
the artist of Frank Leslie's Illus-
trated Newspaper. This and other
vile, debasing, and brutal mis-
deeds kept the Negroes and their
allies in constant fear. The attor-
ney who was later to defend the
Klan declared that their outrages
shocked humanity. In 1868, ac-
cording to a Southern newspaper,
the Klan was being formed for
action "wherever the insolent
negro, the malignant white traitor
to his race, and the infamous
squatter" were plotting to make
the South "utterly unfit for the
residence of the decent white man."

White-robed Klansmen rode the countryside at
night to terrorize those whom they believed to be
responsible for the South's degradation. By 1869 the
Klan had absorbed "all the horse thieves, cutthroats,
bushwhackers and outlaws of every description"
and degenerated into a mob of lawless rioters.

THE IMPEACHMENT COMMITTEE, an official group portrait taken by Mathew B.
Brady. Seated, from left to right: Benjamin F. Butler, Thaddeus Stevens, Thomas Williams,
and John A. Bingham. Standing: James F. Wilson, George S. Boutwell, and John A. Logan.

THE IMPEACHMENT

OF
ANDREW JOHNSON

The Radical Republicans, angered by President
Johnson's mild reconstruction policy and outraged
about his independent attitude, passed the Tenure
of Office Act, which forbade the President to issue
military orders, to remove civil officeholders of the
government, or dismiss high military officers without
the consent of the Senate. The prime purpose of the
act was to keep a check on Johnson and to retain

RACKED IN BODY AND SOUL, Thaddeus
Stevens went before the House of Representatives to
propose the impeachment of President Johnson.

THE IMPEACHMENT COURT, constituted by
the Senate under Chief Justice Chase, deliberated for
weeks. It failed to impeach Johnson by a single vote.

PRESIDENT JOHNSON RECEIVES THE SUMMONS. When the President removed
Edwin Stan ton, the Secretary of War, from office without consulting the Senate, the hostile
group of Radical Republicans instituted impeachment proceedings against Johnson.

Edwin Stanton, the Secretary of War and a close
friend of the Radicals.

When the President, challenging the constitution-
ality of the Act, dismissed Stanton, the Radicals
charged him with "high crimes and misdemeanors"
and voted to impeach him. Nine of the eleven charges
against Johnson were based on the Tenure of Office
Act. The trial lasted from the middle of March till

the middle of May 1868, with the country watching
in a high state of excitement. To impeach the Presi-
dent the Radicals needed a two-thirds vote. But their
effort failed. In the decisive ballot seven Republican
senators sided with the Democrats. Thus, by a
single vote, the presidential office as created under the
Constitution* escaped destruction. Thaddeus Stevens
muttered angrily: "The country is going to the devil."

THEODORE'S DIARY, about the time of Johnson's impeachment. The entry dated
"Sunday, Munday and Tuesday" is particularly revealing. "As I lost My book I cannot
remember what I have done, except the getting of my birds nests which I will relate. The
robins and catbirds nest I pushed from limbs with sticks. We knocked down two pair of
birds nests but did not take them. All of a sudden we saw high in the barn and with a wasps
nest near it a swallows nest. We got it with a ladder. Nothing now happened till the 4th of
September." Here we have Theodore Roosevelt, the meticulous reporter, the lover of nature.
Almost every day his entries contain some reference to natural history, his lifelong interest.
The 4th of September was most exciting. "To day I was called in from breakfast to a room.
When I went in there what was my surprise to see on wall, curtains and floor about fourty
swallows . . . and about 75 [were] in the house. I caught most of them. The others got out."

TROUBLED BY ASTHMA— an entry in Theodore Roosevelt's first childhood diary,
dated Monday, August 10, 1868. With characteristic poor spelling Theodore confides: "I
had an attack of the Asmcr but I did not go to New York." But regardless of his asthma
attacks, Teedie exercised, swam, and rode. There are entries in the diary which foretell the
vigorous life to which Theodore adhered as a grown man. "Had a ride of six miles before
breakfast. I will always have a ride of six miles before breakfast now," he wrote on August
20. Whether he played store and "baby," whether he went to church, whether he "read,
wrote or drew," whether he "did nothing," everything was put on paper with systematic
care. And while the nation wrestled with the grave problem of reconstruction, while Congress
started impeachment proceedings against the President, the Roosevelt children spent an idyllic
summer at Barrytown, unaware of the momentous political decisions which faced the country.

THE NEW PRESIDENT AND HIS FAMILY

General Ulysses S. Grant, the hero of the Civil War, became President in 1868. The country
looked forward to good times and a decent administration. It attained neither. Under Grant's
leadership public morality sank to a new low. Corruption and graft flourished. Though
personally honest, the President could not check the misdeeds of his associates. Politicians
and speculators abused his trusting nature. Gradually, a disillusioned electorate realized
that a successful military man does not necessarily have the makings of a good President.

CHAPTER V

HIS FIRST TRIP TO EUROPE

It was a grand tour that Theodore Roosevelt's father mapped out for his
family. They were to go to Europe so the children could see and learn at first
hand about the Old World.

The Roosevelts set out from New York on May 12, 1869; nine days later
they were in Liverpool, where Uncle Jimmy and Uncle Irving — the brother
and half brother of Mrs. Roosevelt — lived in voluntary exile. They had a
lovely reunion, and Theodore visited his cousins' school. The only trouble was:
"We had a nice time but met Jeff Davises son and some sharp words ensued."
From Liverpool the six Roosevelts proceeded to the Lake District, then to
Edinburgh, and from there to western Scotland. From Glasgow they traveled
via York, Warwick, Oxford to London, where they stayed for three weeks.

Leaving England for Holland, they journeyed to Antwerp, The Hague, and
Amsterdam, then to Germany — Frankfort, Heidelberg, and Baden — and from
there to Strasbourg and to Basel, in Switzerland. A thorough tourist trip of
Switzerland followed, taking in the Jura Mountains, Bern, Lausanne, Montreux,
Geneva, Chamonix, the Mont Blanc. Zermatt, Andermatt, Lucerne, Zurich —
one gets tired listing the names of the places. The Roosevelts were sight-seers
of the first order.

Though there was plenty to watch and plenty to do, Teedie was not
too happy. His diary reveals that "I have been homesick all the nights at
Luzerne." And in France he "cried for homesickness and a wish to get out of
the land where friends (or as I think them enemies) who cannot speak
the language are forced on me."

After Switzerland came Italy: Stresa, Lugano, Milan, Venice. Then Austria:
Trieste, Vienna, Ischl, Salzburg. Once more Germany: Munich, Nurnberg,
Dresden, Berlin, Cologne, then through Belgium to Paris. There they stayed
put for a full month, enjoying life in the French capital. But by the end
of November they were on the way again: Dijon, Marseilles, the French and
Italian Rivieras, and through Genoa and Pisa to Rome. Christmas was spent in
Rome, then on to Naples and Sorrento, where they celebrated the New Year.

Back to Rome for six weeks of sight-seeing, then via Florence, Bologna,
Turin, to Paris. Six weeks there, a week in London, and a visit to Liverpool to
say farewell to the Bullochs rounded out the trip. On May 14 they embarked
on the Russia, and sailed home.

Theodore closes his diary on an exultant pitch: "This morning we saw land
of America and, swiftly coming on, passed Sandy Hook and went in to the
bay. New York!!! Hip! Hurrah!" 77

THEODORE ROOSEVELT'S CHILDHOOD

The Roosevelts left New York on May 12, 1869, and
after touring England, Holland, Switzerland, Italy,
and France, they returned home on May 25, 1870.
During the trip Theodore recorded his experiences
with methodical exactness. On the voyage to Europe
he noted that he was seasick and that he was home-
sick. He described the fish and birds he saw, re-

DIARIES OF HIS FIRST EUROPEAN TRIP

marked about the books he read. When the boat
reached its destination the whole ship was in an up-
roar except Teedie, who "read, entirely oblivious to
what was going on." In a letter from Europe his
mother confided to her sister that she thought Teedie
was a "strange child! I am going to try to wake him
up to observe what goes on and make him observe."

THESE WERE HIS FIRST IMPRESSIONS OF

The waxworks Theodore speaks about in his diary
are Mme. Tussaud's; the hard-to-spell name was
conveniently left out. He also records the happy time
in London's Hyde Park, his visit to the British
Museum and "the Westnubster abby." In London,
Teedie suffered severe asthma attacks, and these at-
tacks continued almost throughout the entire jour-

THE CITY OF LONDON

ney. There are entries in the diary like "I was verry
sick last night," or "I had a miserable night," or "I
was rubbed so hard on the chest this morning that
the blood came out." Only at a high altitude did he
feel better. In Switzerland he went for long walks,
sometimes thirteen, sometimes nineteen and some-
times even twenty miles a day to build up his body.

THE OBJECT OF HIS LOVE

Edith Kermit Carow, the seven-year-old daughter
of Charles and Gertrude Carow, was an early com-
panion of the Roosevelt children. She lived next
door to Grandfather Roosevelt on Fourteenth Street,
and her parents were family friends. Theodore was
fond of her, though it was his sister Corinne who be-
came Edith's "churn." While the Roosevelts so-
journed in Paris, Theodore was shown a portrait of
Edith, and the face of the little girl "stired up in me
homesickness and longings for the past which will
come again never, alack never." Still, Edith was not
the only young lady in his life. A few months later
in Rome, after the birthday party for his brother
Elliott, Theodore confided in his diary: "We then
danced and when we had forfeits I was suddenly
surprised by being kissed by Ellicse Van Schaick as
the boy she loved best in the room." Yet it was Edith
Carow whom he married after his first wife's death.

THE YOUNG LOVER

Eleven-year-old Teedie Roosevelt at the time of the
European trip. In his diary he noted all the interest-
ing things he saw, all the places he visited. He would
have enjoyed the trip more if he had suffered less from
recurrent asthma attacks. His elder sister, Bamie,
wrote to her aunt: "Poor little Tedie is sick again with
the asthma — it was coming on all day yesterday, but in
the evening he seemed a little better so Father went out
— before his return, however, Tedie had a very bad
attack. Mother and I were very much worried about
the poor little fellow and at last Mother gave him a
strong cup of coffee, which failed as he could not
sleep but sat in the parlor to have stories of when
Mother was a little girl told him." The boy loved it.

THE DIARY PAGE of

Theodore, written in Paris
on November 22, 1869, with
the wistful entry about Edith
Carow. "I went for Mama
at her russian bath and
Conie and I while waiting
for mama looked at some
cats and I showed her my
bathroom. As it rained I
did not go out untill the
afternoon when I and Conie
went out alone. In the eve-
ning mama showed me the
portrait of Eidieth Carow
and her face stired up in me
homesickness and longings
for the past which will come
again never, alack never."

PAGES FROM HIS DIARY

The hotel suites in which the family stayed — whether in London, Paris or Venice— are care-
fully drawn (see below). The times the "big people" went out — that is, father, mother, and
his elder sister, Ramie — while Theodore, his brother Elliott, his sister Corinne — "the little
people" — were left behind are recorded in minute detail. The entries reveal a methodical,
pedantic, orderly mind.

In Paris the young diarist describes how "We annoyed (not really) the chambermaids
and waiters and were chased by them." In Trieste: "I am now on the castle and have written
my name on the pole there." In San Remo a bit of juvenile jingoism when "We 3" tossed
food to a large group of peasant children. "We made the crowds that we gave the cakes to
give three cheers for the U.S.A. before we gave them cakes." In Rome: "We saw the Pope
and we walked along and he extended his hand to me and I kissed it!! hem!! hem!!"

His keen interest in nature lore found new outlets in Europe, where he visited every
natural-history museum he could find, while art exhibits were not to his taste. "If Raphel,"
he wrote, "had only painted landscapes instead of church things!"

Often a note of unconscious humor found its way into the diary. In Italy the Roosevelts
visited "St. John the Baptists chapel where no woman was allowed to enter because
Herrodeus had had his head cut off"; in France, "We went to Pere la Chais where we saw
severel famous persons interred." Less often there is a note of romantic and world-weary
introspection, as when he is told that his Uncle Weir, his father's brother, had died. "It is
the third relation that has died in my short life. What will come?" Such morose sentiments
might have seemed startling in a child so young, had it not been obvious that he was merely
exercising a flair for the dramatic, an art in which he became quite proficient as time passed.

CLASSIFICATIONS AND PROMISES

The countries that the Roosevelts visited received ratings by Theodore. "England not nice
at all," said an entry, while "Scotland on the whole verry nice." The four days in "Roland"—
with one 7 — and Switzerland must have been the high points of the journey; they were
"splendid." For the ten-year-old boy the European countries were either "decent," "nice,"
"splendid," or "not nice at all." His opinions were clear and firm— he had no doubt about
them. In another section of his diary he made careful notation of the promises which were
given him on the trip and which had to be fulfilled when the family returned to America.
He recorded these promises with great care, so they would not be forgotten. Thus, when
Papa said Theodore would get "a verry good bow and arrow," or "a good big geogography,"
here they were noted in the diary. Similarly, Mama's promise "if possible a room for myself"
and Papa's word about letting him know "the names of my forefathers" were put on paper;
there could be no argument about the matter later. Theodore would not take any chances.

SCHOOLROOMS WERE OVERCROWDED.

As New York grew too fast, neither housing accom-
modations nor school facilities could keep pace with
the population increase. School classes like the above
Grammar School No. 3, photographed in 1873, were
large. In 1870 there were 287 schools in the city, with

3,215 teachers (over 3,000 of them women), who
taught 251,545 pupils. A contemporary chronicler
noted that the best students were the Jews, followed
by the Germans, "whilst the Irish, with different
traits, have produced from these schools bright speci-
mens of what, with education, they may become."

CHAPTER VI

THE EMERGENCE OF MODERN

AMERICA

The forces which Theodore Roosevelt had to master during his presidential
years were forged while he was in his short pants, knowing little and caring
nothing about them.

The third quarter of the nineteenth century brought a tremendous acceler-
ation to the industrial revolution throughout the Western world, and nowhere
did the revolution move more speedily than in the United States.

Statistics cannot fully convey the greatest economic boom the country had
ever seen, but they indicate the speed with which industrial expansion drove
the nation forward. In 1865 only 1.5 billion dollars were invested in American
manufacturing. By 1878 the figure had reached 3 billions. In 1859 there were
140,000 manufacturing plants in the country. Ten years later there were
252,000. Steel production jumped from about 15,000 tons in 1865 to more
than 600,000 tons in 1876, while in the eight years following the war the na-
tion's total railroad mileage increased 100 per cent.

Of all the fabulous industrial success stories during the years following
Appomattox, none were more remarkable than the growth of two relatively
new products: steel and oil. The steel age had been born in England in 1856
through the genius of Henry Bessemer, but it did not get started in America
until just after the war. Thereafter, the development of the new product was
so fast that steel became as cheap as cast iron. During the early years of the
industry, most of the output went into train rails, where its durability made it
far superior to iron. If for no other reason than this, steel's influence on Ameri-
can expansion was predominant, since the huge crops of the Middle West and
the manufactured goods of the Mississippi Valley could never have been car-
ried without it.

Oil, like steel, was an industry that grew up almost overnight. Before the
war, crude oil had been used on a small scale as a lubricant, and on a some-
what larger scale as a "cure-all" medicine to be used either externally or inter-
nally for almost any ailment. The boom came, however, with the discovery
that a cheap refining process could make the product into a practical source
of illumination.

In addition to steel and oil, meat packing emerged as a major business in
this postwar period, aided by the growth of cattle ranching, and improvements
in rail transportation and refrigeration. The milling industry, superseding the
old-fashioned gristmill, the manufacture of ready-made clothing in place of
homemade garments yielded quick riches. 85

The standardization of products was one major characteristic of the indus-
trial boom; another was the rapid expansion of industries in the Middle
West, an area which had been almost entirely agricultural a decade earlier.
Besides meat packing and milling, foundries sprang up in Iowa and Illinois;
breweries in St. Louis and Milwaukee; a thriving watch industry in Elgin,
Illinois; stockyards, farm machinery and railroad equipment production
boomed in Chicago.

In the exciting drama of taming the Wild West the railroads played a major
role. The westward advancement of the frontier settlements during the ten
years following Lincoln's death was truly astonishing. Three wartime measures
— the Homestead Act, the Morrill Land-Grant Act, and a bill giving huge
tracts to the Union Pacific — had thrown extensive public lands open to settle-
ment. Between 1871 and 1876 nearly 40,000 homesteads passed into the pos-
session of settlers. Under the Morrill Act, each state in the Union received
30,000 acres per congressman to sell or rent for endowing colleges of agricul-
ture and mechanics. The railroads — Union Pacific, Santa Fe, and Southern
Pacific particularly — were given 20-mile land grants on each side of their
tracks in territorial areas, and 10-mile grants in the states. So great was the
land distribution that by 1871, when the last of the railroad grants was made,
the government had given away nearly 130,000,000 acres — an area three
times the size of New England.

The most dramatic — and in many respects ignominious — chapter in the
story of the West was the conflict between the new settlers and the Indians.
When the Civil War ended, there were about 300,000 "untamed" Indians, of
whom the most hostile were the ones living on the Great Plains. Between
1865 and 1870, as the whites moved into the Indian preserves, there was al-
most constant fighting, and even after that period it continued sporadically
for a number of years. The universal attitude on the frontier was cold-blooded
and uncompromising: the only good Indian was a dead one — an attitude that
led to a great deal of cruelty on both sides.

At the same time that the Indians were being driven back, the buffalo —
one of the country's great natural resources — was being systematically annihil-
ated. In the 1860s there were probably about 15,000,000 of these creatures in
the West, roaming the plains in great herds. The building of the railroads made
these herds accessible, and the demand for buffalo robes and buffalo meat
made hunting them profitable, although much of the slaughter was for
"sport." Between 1871 and 1874 about 3,700,000 animals were killed in the
southwestern herd alone, and the buffalo species was close to extinction.

In the new Middle Western states the two great industries were farming and
stock raising. The cattle business contributed stirring chapters in the Ameri-
can legend, and the cowboys who rode the range were in many respects the
most colorful and unique characters the nation ever produced. Their lives
were rugged, their outlook reckless, and their day-to-day activities were attuned
to conflicts with sheep ranchers, Indians, cattle rustlers, and the advancing
86 homesteaders, who fenced off more and more of the best grazing land. It was

inevitable that this land should move increasingly into the domain of the
farmer, who could use it far more fully and economically than the cattleman.

Farther west, beyond the plains, mining was the great attraction for settlers.
The 1849 gold rush to the Pacific coast was followed by the development of
the Comstock Lode about 1860 and the Montana gold rush immediately after
the war. These sporadic events determined the pattern of settlement in the
Southwest, but they did not make for an orderly growth of the region. Over-
optimism, hard drinking, and vice of every variety were the characteristics of
mining-town life, and at their worst these communities made eastern fleshpots
seem very mild indeed.

One notable exception to this pattern was the state of Utah, which had
been settled in the 1850s by the persecuted Mormons under Brigham Young.
By 1866 Utah had about 120,000 inhabitants, most of them farmers, and was
operating under a theocratic government with a remarkable economic system
based on barter and tightly controlled by Young himself. This worked as long
as Utah could remain Mormon and self-sufficient, but when the Union Pacific
brought in swarms of nev\ traders and settlers its doom was sealed. Culturally,
Utah scored some remarkable accomplishments, and economically it went far
toward abolishing poverty; but it was hamstrung by Young's ironclad admin-
istrative system and by the institution of polygamy, which led to internal
dissension.

Though the material progress to be seen in the country was breath-taking,
it was only part of the story. At the same time that America was striding for-
ward to new economic and geographic frontiers, it was acquiring a new cul-
tural breadth, a new awakening of intellectual national consciousness.

Before the war intellectual pursuits were virtually a monopoly of the
eastern seaboard, and particularly of New England; visitors from abroad
found the rest of the country little more than a cultural desert. But after the
war all this was changed. At Ann Arbor, Michigan, there grew up one of the
country's most progressive universities; from the Middle West came such
intellectual stimulants as Mark Twain and William Dean Howells; in the Far
West the cultural awakening produced Bret Harte, Joaquin Miller, and others.

True, England's Victorian writers continued to set the literary tone. Charles
Dickens was still the idol of most culture-conscious Americans; and when he
visited this country two years after the war he grossed $140,000 in one tour
of the eastern states alone. But native American writers found that they, for
the first time, had an audience too. Men like Mark Twain and Bret Harte,
who could not have hoped to enjoy wide popularity before the war, were able
to capitalize successfully on the new interest in lectures and the rapid increase
in readership of current periodicals.

Mark Twain's emergence was an excellent illustration of the thoroughness
of the break between prewar and postwar cultural attitudes in America. With
few exceptions, the intellectual giants of the ante-bellum years — men like
Ralph Waldo Emerson, James Russell Lowell, and Oliver Wendell Holmes —
were steeped in cultural tradition and formal education. But Mark Twain 87

conformed to none of the established rules. He came originally from Missouri;
his schooling was on river boats and in printing shops rather than in academic
halls; his interests ran to plebeian and colorful subject matter rather than to
the more refined and elegant subjects that had found the best audiences in
the past. Because his work seemed vulgar to many who were influenced by
the fastidious tastes of the period, the East was slow to recognize it; but by
1880, even Brahmin Boston was reading and enjoying him.

Mark Twain's first real popular recognition came as a lecturer, and it was
in this capacity that many writers of the period found new and eager
followers. The lecture bureau was, in fact, one of the great leavening influ-
ences in postwar America's cultural development, an admirable medium for
disseminating intellectual stimulation.

It was a British-reared journalist, James Redpath, who must be given par-
ticular credit for the great growth of interest in lectures, for it was he who put
lecturing on a sound, businesslike basis by establishing a central booking office
in New York City and routing speakers about the countryside for 10 per cent
of their fees. Under the guidance of Redpath and the others who hastened
into the business, a steady stream of lecturers circulated through the nation,
many of them obtaining fees that seem substantial even by today's standards.
Henry Ward Beecher received as much as $1,000 for a single evening; the car-
toonist Thomas Nast made $40,000 in a seven-month tour of the East. Soon
afterward, the Chatauqua movement — founded in 1874 as a training program
for Sunday-school teachers — blossomed into a noncommercial lecture center,
sending earnest speakers through the nation, delivering instructive talks in
thousands of cities and hamlets.

The revitalized American culture was not reflected in literature alone. Higher
education underwent radical changes. The room for progress in this field was
almost unlimited at the close of the war, for the nation's colleges were without
exception in a deplorable state. Harvard, while perhaps the best of them, was
poorly equipped, had virtually no funds for expansion, and offered an ill-
organized, back ward- looking curriculum that was scarcely above the level of a
good high-school education today. Yale was even worse — a quasitheological
institution in which free academic inquiry was effectively squelched by a small
but dominant group of Congregational clergymen. In almost every college the
teaching was uninspired, consisting mostly of dull recitations in which the pupil
was taught to memorize and imitate rather than to think for himself.

President Charles Eliot enlarged the Harvard curriculum; he set up a system
of "electives," which freed students from the stifling effects of being limited to
a rigid and prescribed course; he upped entrance requirements so that Harvard
was no longer open to anyone whose only assets were money and social position;
he established a program of graduate study in liberal arts; and he raised
professional training in law, medicine, and engineering to the postgraduate level.

The most hotly debated of the Eliot reforms was the elective system, which
ran directly counter to almost all the accepted notions of the relationship of
students to their colleges. Even relatively "liberal" educators felt that Harvard's

president had gone too far, but the elective idea rode a ground swell of favorable
public sentiment, and soon it was spreading to college after college.

Harvard also led the way in the reform of legal and medical education, both
of which were in a particularly sorry state at the time of Eliot's ascendancy.
In the law school — aided by the brilliant Dean C. C. Langdell — Eliot changed
a haphazard eighteen-month course to a very demanding three-year one, and
he changed the technique of teaching to the celebrated "case method." This
method, which emphasized learning legal principles through study of actual
cases rather than the mere memorizing of statutes, was scoffed at by lawyers
until it was found that Harvard's graduates were far better equipped profes-
sionally than those from other law schools.

In the field of medical education the need for reform was even more urgent,
for the universities had been turning out an astonishing number of dangerously
incompetent doctors who were guilty of gross malpractice and, in many instan-
ces, killed as many patients as they cured. An indication of the wretched
educational background that most medical students possessed was provided in
1870 when the head of th. medical school at Harvard objected vigorously to
giving examinations on the grounds that "a majority of the students cannot
write well enough." But it was at Harvard, nevertheless, that the reforms came,
swift and sweeping reforms instituted by Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes of the
medical faculty. A three-year graduate course was instituted, entrance require-
ments were drastically stiffened, and despite vehement objections from the
medical profession, an entirely new concept of professional competence was
established.

While these great reforms were going on in the established universities,
equally significant strides were being made in the field of women's education.
Higher education for women had not been unheard of before the war, but it
had been regarded by the average American with profound distrust, as indeed
was any concept which seemed to take women out of their traditional role as
mothers and homemakers. This distrust, of course, did not disappear in the
sixties and seventies, but it was beaten back by reformers to a degree that per-
mitted women's education to move toward a new role in American life. The
greatest step was the establishment of three first-rate colleges exclusively for
women: Vassar (1865) in New York State, and Smith and Wellesley (both 1875)
in Massachusetts. For the first time in its history the nation had women's
colleges operating on standards just as high as those of the men's colleges.

The advances in education made scarcely as dramatic a story as the huge eco-
nomic and social advances represented by the expansion of industry and the
opening of the West, but they reflected the cultural changes that made
the America of the eighties an incomparably different place from the America
of pre-Civil War days. Theodore Roosevelt was one of the first to benefit from
these changes.

THE RAILROADS CHANGED AMERICAN LIFE

THE GOLDEN SPIKE CEREMONY on May 10, 1869,
in Utah marked the completion of the 3, 2 50- mile transcon-
tinental railroad. From then on, Americans were able to
travel from New York to San Francisco in less than a week.

DINING AND SLEEPING CARS made long journeys less
tedious and more comfortable. George Pullman first built them
in 1864. The air brake, invented by George Westinghouse
four years later, and the safety coupler made traveling safe.

SPANNING THE CONTINENT. The Union Pa-
cific, starting westward from Omaha in 1 865, was built
in feverish haste. Pushing through the territories of
Nebraska and Wyoming and across the Rockies, the
rails were laid as far as the Great Salt Basin by 1869.
At the same time the Central Pacific, starting east-

ward from San Francisco, reached Utah. The two rails
met at Promontory Point on May 10, 1869. The rail-
roads opened up vast tracts of hitherto inaccessible ter-
ritory to settlement; they increased commerce a hun-
dredfold; they carried mineral, agricultural and other
products from one part of the country to the other.

THE FIRST OIL WELL AND THE FIRST STEEL PLANT

OIL ADVERTISEMENT— one of the earliest on record. Issued by Samuel
M. Kier in Pittsburgh in January 1852, four years after oil was * 'discovered
in boring for Salt Water near the Bank of the Allegheny River, Allegheny
County, Penna., about Four Hundred Feet below the Earth's surface."
This Petroleum, or Rock Oil, as sold by Kier at his Canal Basin store in
Pittsburgh, was in the inventor's words "a natural remedy." Another of
his advertisements extolled the amazing, all-inclusive healing virtues of the
new discovery. "The lame, through its instrumentality, were made to walk
— the blind, to see. Those who had suffered for years under the torturing
pains of RHEUMATISM, GOUT AND NEURALGIA were restored
to health and usefulness," asserted the enthusiastic advertisement.

THE FIRST STEEL PLANT. The Carnegie-owned Edgar Thomson
Works made its initial Bessemer blow in August, 1875; shortly thereafter
Pittsburgh's first steel rail slid through the rollers. Steel was turned out
cheaply and in immense quantities, making huge profits for the mill.

DRAKE'S FOLLY—

In the year 1847 or thereabouts,
Samuel M. Kier, the owner of
a fleet of canalboats between
Pittsburgh and Philadelphia,
began bottling and selling
petroleum as medicine. He
drew this as a by-product of
his father's salt wells near Tar-
entum in Pennsylvania. Al-
though Kier charged a modest
fee for his medicine, "the most
wonderful remedy ever dis-
covered," he could not sell all

THE FIRST OIL WELL NEAR TITUSVILLE, PA., WAS DRILLED BY EDWIN L. DRAKE

the oil that he produced. In his attempt to find other
methods to utilize his oil, he consulted a chemist in
Philadelphia for advice, and followed up his conver-
sation with experiments in distilling petroleum. Con-
vinced that if he could eliminate the smoke and odor
of the product, petroleum could be used for lighting
lamps, he erected a one-barrel still in Pittsburgh — the
first oil refinery in the United States. Kicr's "carbon
oil" was not only cheaper but safer and better than
the tallow or whale oil which until then had been
used for illumination. At first Kier sold a gallon for
75$, but when the number of customers increased,
he upped the price, first to $1.50, then to $2.00. His

chief trouble was that, however hard he tried, he
could not increase his supply. This problem was
solved when, in the latter days of August 1859, Edwin
L. Drake—a former conductor of the New York &
New Haven Railroad — struck oil in Titusville, using
a six horse-power engine and a "Long John" tubular
boiler which was stationary. Time proved he had
tapped one of the greatest subterranean deposits of
petroleum in America. With Drake's strike, the era
of oil began. The photograph shows the Drake well
five years later. On the wheelbarrow is "Uncle Billy"
Smith, the driller who was paid $2.50 a day and
who first perceived the oil floating in the well.

AMERICAN INGENUITY manifested
itself in the enormous number of inventions
which were patented in the decade after the
war. Since the early days of the republic, to
invent things has been a great American
pastime. In the years before and after the
Civil War, American-made sewing machines,
American reapers, American revolvers, and
American circular saws became popular
commodities. With families filling up the
country at breakneck speed, the great task
before the American ijiventor was to help the
women run their homes with less effort.
Labor-saving devices were sorely needed,
foremost among them a washing machine.
This early contraption was cumbersome,
but, to the joy of the housewives, it worked.

TRANSPORTATION PROBLEMS kept many an
inventor's mind occupied. The question of how to
move from one place to another without much effort
waited for solution. Inventors tried feverishly to find
a vehicle which would be a substitute for the horse-
drawn carriage. They came up with a series of new
ideas, one of them the unicycle as pictured on the
right. Regular bicycles with rotary cranks were
invented in 1865 by Pierre Lallement in Paris. After
selling his patent to M. Michaux, Lallement emi-
grated to America and worked on the same idea.
These first machines were extremely heavy and came
to be known as "boneshakers" because of their vibra-
tion on the rough roads. Some of the models had
tremendous front wheels up to 64 inches in diame-
ter, while rear wheels shrank to 12 inches or less.

MAKING CAKES with a cake machine
that was invented in the late sixties. New
inventions penetrated every industry, every
manufacturing establishment, producing
goods which for centuries, and sometimes for
millcniums — like bread — had been made by
hand. Whether it was a machine for making
bread or for canning food, every new imple-
ment not only increased production, but in-
fluenced and changed the habits of the
American people. One of the great sights of
Washington was the Patent Office. The
number of patents granted by the federal
government came to 36,000 by 1860. Thirty
years later this number had increased over
twelvefold. By 1890 half a million patents
had been granted to American inventors.

THE PORTABLE RANGE, a de-luxe
model of 1875. Life for women, not only in
the newly broken country, but in the urban
areas as well, was harder than that of the
men. A woman had to care for her husband
and children; she had to tend the chickens
and milk the cows. She had to cook for the
family, sew the children's clothing, do the
laundry, clean the house — and she had to
do all this without labor-saving devices.
Thus, when inventors lightened her burden
with improved stoves or practical sewing
machines, such inventions were greeted with
enthusiasm. Manufacturers reaped enor-
mous profits on household appliances. A
single manufacturer within a year sold 20,000
sewing machines, costing from $50 to $150.

<**

THE TYPEWRITER was first used to help the
blind or the paralytic. The early machines were
unwieldy and not easy to operate, but by 1867
Christopher Latham Sholes, Carlos Glidden, and
Samuel W. Soul£ had introduced a practical model.
After many experiments, the machine proved a suc-
cess. With expanding commerce, expanding busi-
ness, typewriters became an everyday necessity. At
first the machines had only capital letters, but when
in 1873 the gunmaking firm of Remington and Sons
at Ilion, New York, took up manufacturing the Sholes-
Glidden machine, the modern typewriter was born.
It revolutionized American life; women typists in-
vaded the offices. Theodore Roosevelt was the first
President whose letters were almost all typewritten.

MASS PRODUCTION grew to be a burn-
ing need as the waves of immigration
brought hundreds of thousands of newcom-
ers to America. They needed clothing, they
needed shoes, they needed goods. The prim-
itive ways of making apparel at home had
to be supplanted by the faster production of
machines. Newly developed shoemaking ma-
chinery turned out footwear in great quan-
tities, causing distress among the old crafts-
men. With the installation of such machines,
a master cobbler was not able to earn more
than a dollar a day. His job was not steady; for
weeks he was without employment. One fac-
tory with less than 100 hands produced more
footwear in a day than could all the 30,000
bootmakers in Paris during an entire year.

GROWTH. The country expanded rapidly. A year
before the Civil War began, the total railroad mile-
age in the country was 30,000; by the turn of the
century it had increased to no less than 193,000.

OVERNIGHT ACCOMMODATIONS could be
procured in hotels of the growing towns which
mushroomed along the railroad lines. The above
is the Grand Island Hotel in Platte, Nebraska.

MAIN STREET of Helena, Montana, in 1863. In
1790 only 5.1 per cent of the population lived in
places with more than 2,500 inhabitants; by 1860
this percentage had risen to 19.8; by 1900 to 39.7.

"GIVE ME YOUR TIRED, YOUR POOR, YOUR

The land needed men to develop the country and to
develop it fast. Men arrived in droves — a quarter of a
million in 1865. Eight years later this number had
already been doubled. People came, hoping for a
better life, hoping for opportunities and work. By

HUDDLED MASSES YEARNING TO BREATHE FREE . . . SEND THESE, THE HOMELESS . . ."

1875 about 20 per cent of the nation's population
was foreign born.

The greatest number of immigrants came from the
British Isles, followed by Germans, Scandinavians
and Dutch. Some Americans were disturbed by the

influx of such a large foreign element; they were
critical of the illiteracy of the eastern Eurppcans; they
were worried about the congregation of the Irish in
the city slums and the clannishness of the Germans
and Scandinavians in the northwest settlements.

THE STAGE COACH, Not until October 1858—
the very month Theodore Roosevelt was born — had
an attempt been made to carry mail by means of a
regular overland service across the continent to
California. Before that, letters from New York were
sent by water to San Francisco, taking three to four
weeks to arrive. But when in 1860 the Pony Express

was established to carry the mail on horseback,
changing horses and riders every 50 or 75 miles, the
almost 2,000 miles from St. Joseph to San Francisco
were made in less than nine days.

The Pony Express appealed to the American im-
agination. Brave men on brave horses rode at break-
neck speed, fighting the elements and the Indians

SHOOTING BUFFALO from the trains of the
Kansas Pacific Railroad became an extremely popu-
lar sport. Within twenty-five years the great herd, an
estimated 13,000,000 animals, had been wiped out.

CATTLE TOWNS like Wichita, Kansas, grew
fast. When in 1873 a spur line connected Wichita
with the Santa F6, 350,000 head of cattle were
shipped from its yards in that single year alone.

on the way. Unhappily it lasted only a few short
months. With the completion of the telegraph line
in October 1861, the Pony Express had outlived its
usefulness. The overland stages like Holladay's
famous line or Wells, Fargo (see above) took mail
and passengers. With the expanding railroad lines,
the stages, too, were to pass, and with them romance.

PLOWING ON THE PRAIRIES beypnd the Mis-
sissippi. The newcomer cleared the land, broke the
sod, plowed the earth, worked ceaselessly, reaping
his reward in the bountiful yield of the virgin soil.

"GO WEST, YOUNG MAN."

In a steady and constant
stream, men and women
pushed forward to settle and
to live on the vast and unex-
ploited land. Conestoga wag-
ons, prairie schooners, drawn
by oxen, mules, and horses,
two to ten drawing each team,
crossed the country, moving
slowly, taking people from
one frontier to the other. Emi-
grants traveled together, well
armed to protect themselves
against the Indians. The jour-
ney was perilous. Some of
those who were not strong
enough to endure the hard-
ships died on the way and
were buried in the strange
soil. But those who survived
pushed on with high hopes.
Their faith in the future they
painted on the sides of their
vehicles in bold letters: "Root
Hog or Die," "Pike's Peak or
Bust."

This rare photograph taken
by Alexander Gardner in
October 1867 depicts a bull
train crossing the Smoky River
near the town of Ellsworth,
Kansas. It is the first known
picture of such a migration.

100

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': ^,v ' v-Vv' • • .•,;,"";'' :-^ '-Xv#'&: /^*;.,, ;.X*

'• •:' '• v'-1^:.1' •"'"/>>;'-• ;'!-<y?^\y^r;}:':v^-;:

"WE CROSS THE PRAIRIE AS OF OLD

The Pilgrims crossed the sea, / To make the West, as
they the East, / The homestead of the free!" sang the
poet Whittier. This is an early ranch house on a
central Kansas homestead. It was photographed,
tame elk and all, by Alexander Gardner in 1867.
The Homestead Act, passed by Congress in 1862,
provided that all present and prospective citizens
could receive 160 acres of land free if they would re-

side on it for five years. The Act proved a great im-
petus for many a city dweller and immigrant to
move out West. In the year of 1865, no less than
160,000,000 acres were entered under the homestead
laws; the following year, 1,892,000 acres; in 1867
the acreage declined slightly to 1,788,000, but in the
next year it rose to 2,328,923 acres. After the Civil
War, five to seven million acres of land were sold or
granted every single year to prospective settlers.

102

CHAPTER VII

A GENERAL IS PRESIDENT

To understand Theodore Roosevelt's actions as President, one has to keep
in mind the history of the administrations before him — particularly that of
General Grant.

Under Grant's administration public morality reached a new low. There was
a tremendous growth in national wealth, but no parallel growth in public
sensibilities. Riches were available as never before, and premiums were placed
on ruthlessness and avarice. The huge government contracts of the war years
had created a new class of coarse and unprincipled men who sought more and
more money without regard for the damage that their harsh actions brought
to their fellow men.

Because of this, it was unfortunate for America that General Grant, who
had served the nation so well in war, should have been elevated to the White
House. The same qualities that had contributed to his success as a general
tended to make him a bungler in politics, and his ineptitude left him an easy
mark for rascals who stood to profit through presidential favors. He inherited
from his army life a deep sense of loyalty to friends, and, since his judgment of
men was often poor, it placed him constantly in the position of standing by
friends who had committed disservices toward both him and the nation. Grant
had neither training nor experience for the high political office. His inability
to arrive at sound political decisions on his own made him dependent on ad-
visers that he selected with great naivet6. His first Cabinet was the most inept
in the nation's history — so impossible, in fact, that all of the men had to be
booted out before a year was up.

The general had scarcely been in office six months when he became involved
in the first of a number of scandals that were to spatter mud on the adminis-
tration during his two terms. It was the celebrated "gold conspiracy" carried
out in September of 1 869 by two of the nation's most notorious speculators,
Jay Gould and "Jim" Fisk, who cornered the gold market, created a severe
panic on the Stock Exchange and enriched themselves with millions, all within
the span of a few days. Both Gould and Fisk maintained an easy friendship
with Grant, whom they convinced that it would benefit the country to restrain
the Treasury from selling gold. It was a remarkable commentary on the
morals of the period that this familiarity was not the subject of widespread
condemnation.

Men like Gould and Fisk bought politicians wholesale who favored bills
which would further enrich the men who bought them. Their example was
followed in almost every state of the Union. In Pennsylvania, Simon Cameron 103

ruled state politics with an iron hand, permitting the Pennsylvania Railroad
and the coal companies to abrogate to themselves special privileges that defied
any fair estimate of the rights of the general public. In the Kansas Legisla-
ture, a fearless and reform-minded representative dramatically laid down on
the Speaker's table $7,000 that he was able to prove had been paid to him by
the Republican machine in order to assure his voting for the re-election of U. S.
Senator Samuel C. Pomeroy. In Illinois, free-spending lobbyists pushed
through hundreds of illegal acts of incorporation, and in other Midwestern
states the revelation of grafts and scandals was almost daily fare.

If state politics were riddled with scandal, municipal politics were worse;
for this was the era in which some of the most flagrant of the corrupt city "ma-
chines" rose to power. The grossest performance took place in New York City,
where the Democratic "Tweed Ring" operated in an unholy alliance with the
upstate Republican machine under an agreement whereby the Republicans
pushed favorable legislation through the State House and split the spoils.

The basis of Tweed's political power was significant, for its pattern was fol-
lowed by other corrupt city machines for many decades to come. It rested pri-
marily on the gratitude and support of the poor, particularly immigrants, who
needed help in their daily problems. The machine was ably set up to give this
help. Through its ward and precinct organizations it paid poor people's debts,
distributed food on holidays, sponsored picnics and social events, squashed
court actions against petty offenders, and — most important — found or created
jobs for those in need. All it asked in exchange was a vote on election day. At
the same time, it staved off opposition from more rich and powerful citizens
by selling special privileges on a wholesale basis and by granting fat and cor-
rupt contracts to those from whom it purchased goods and services. Thus the
machine had the support of rich and poor alike.

By 1871 it was estimated that the Tweed Ring had stolen a total of about
$20,000,000, and all this within a few short months. In one day alone the
members of the ring — sitting as a board of special audit — approved expendi-
tures totaling nearly $16,000,000, of which about $14,000,000 was pure graft.

At the national level thievery was not as bald and open as in many of the
cities; but it was nevertheless an important characteristic of the postwar years,
and its demoralizing effect was all the greater because of the loftier status of
its participants. Perhaps the most flagrant among those who sought special
favors were the railroad interests, which maintained a corps of well-paid
Washington lobbyists with liberal expense accounts. Particularly questionable
were the government's relations with the Union Pacific, which received be-
tween 1865 and 1869 more than half a million dollars in special subsidies under
extraordinarily liberal terms.

The most alarming disclosure of railroad corruption was the affair of the
Cr6dit Mobilier, a company which was formed by a group of Union Pacific
stockholders to take over the contract for building the line's transcontinental
route. The stockholders awarded themselves contracts for construction and
supplies at figures so high that the railroad's profit was drastically reduced,
104 while the holding company — the Credit Mobilier — paid out large dividends.

To avoid governmental censure, the astute financiers distributed Credit
Mobilier stock to influential congressmen. It was graft of the first order.

Under the influence of booming prosperity and loose political morality,
Washington social life blossomed during Grant's terms as it never had before.
The dominant note was sounded by the newly rich who had flocked to the
capital in pursuit of their business interests. They set a fast, gay pace: epicurean
dinners, costly balls, heavy drinking, and much gambling. Older and more
staid leaders of Washington society withdrew from the social whirl, disdain-
fully leaving the field to those with more money and less taste.

It was all but inevitable that the lack of statesmanship in the administra-
tion should have produced a rebellion in Republican ranks, particularly in
view of the constantly mounting public distaste for the Radicals9 stringent re-
construction policies in the South. The rebellion, when it came, was headed
by the "Liberal Republicans," a group which numbered among its ranks such
distinguished men as Horace Greeley, editor of the New York Tribune, Charles
Francis Adams, Massachusetts political leader, whose father and grandfather
had both been Presidents, and Carl Schurz, German-born newspaper editor
who had fled from autocracy abroad and had fought constantly on the side of
liberal policies in America.

As the 1872 Republican national convention drew near, it became obvious
that the Radical wing of the party wanted Grant for a second term. In the
face of this, the Liberals staged a convention in Cincinnati, nominating Greeley
for the presidency and B. Gratz Brown of Missouri for the vice-presidency.

The success of the Liberal rebellion hinged on support from the Democrats,
and this was obtained at the subsequent Democratic national convention in
Baltimore. Greeley, who had once been an abolitionist and who did not favor
the other Liberals' opposition to high tariffs, was not particularly pleasing to
the Democrats; but they realized that they could not defeat Grant on their
own, and so they quickly, if reluctantly, accepted both Greeley and the plat-
form on which he had been nominated. General Sherman, writing to his
brother from Paris, remarked: "Grant, who never was a Republican, is your
candidate, and Greeley, who never was a Democrat, but quite the reverse, is
the Democratic candidate."

In the campaign, personal abuse reached new depths, particularly through
the pen of Thomas Nast, whose cartoons lauded Grant and attacked Greeley
with unparalleled savagery. Even the campaign songs were vicious, the Re-
publicans singing of Greeley's "free love and free farms," the Liberals singing
of Grant "shouting the battle-cry of plunder," Despite the earnestness of their
fight, the Liberals' attempt to stop Grant ended in failure. The general won,
and Radical Republicanism was in the saddle for another four years.

On the day of General Grant's second inauguration fourteen-year-old
Theodore Roosevelt "started out for the Jordan." He had left Jerusalem with
his parents three days before, and now they reached the Dead Sea. "Of course
we bathed in it," recorded Teedie. "It was a strange bath.. You could not sink.
You. could really sit upright in deep water. The after effects were by no means
unpleasant." This could not be said for General Grant's administration. 105

BLACK FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 24, 1869. The excitement in the New York Stock Ex-
change after the Treasury Department placed four millions in gold on the market was im-
mense. With this, the gold conspiracy of the two speculators Jay Gould and Jim Fisk came
to a sudden end. The two rascals had taken advantage of President Grant's trusting nature
and used him for their own unscrupulous machinations. They cornered the gold market
and made a fortune for themselves. Their plan was simple. After persuading the President
that farm prices would climb and farmers would be more prosperous if gold became scarce,
and that it was poor policy for the Treasury to sell gold and relieve the shortage, they pro-
ceeded with their scheme. Not fearing governmental interference, they quickly bought up
all the available gold supply, driving the price of gold from 140 to l63l/2 within four days.
As soon as the naive Grant realized that he had been duped, he ordered the Treasury to
put gold on the market. But even before his order could be carried out, the speculators were
tipped off by Mrs. Grant's brother. When Abel Corbin informed Gould of the President's
decision, the two speculators sold out their holdings in a hurry, making millions of profit on
the transaction. But those who had emulated them and who had not received the warning
were smashed, their fortunes wiped out. When a congressional committee asked Fisk what
had become of the money he made, he replied that "It has gone where the woodbine twineth."

106

TWO CARTOONS BY THE CELEBRATED THOMAS NAST ON THE ALABAMA CLAIMS

Both of them show President Grant with his Secre-
tary of State, Hamilton Fish, and the British lion.
During the Civil War, England allowed warships to
be built and outfitted for the Confederacy in the
British Isles. When these ships were ready, the Eng-
lish Government — in spite of repeated and serious
warnings of our Minister — allowed them to leave the
shores of England and prey on the commerce of the
United States. The most famous Confederate raider
was the Alabama, which left Liverpool in the summer
of 1862, causing an estimated damage of $20,000,000
to the Union's boats and their cargoes. (One of the

men responsible for the building of the Alabama was
Theodore Roosevelt's "Uncle Jimmy" Bulloch.)

When the war ended — and after protracted nego-
tiations between the United States and Great Britain
— the two countries finally agreed in 1871 that the
damage claims upon the Alabama and other war-
ships should be settled by an international arbitra-
tion tribunal. This tribunal, meeting shortly there-
after in Geneva, Switzerland, awarded $15,500,000
in damages to the United States. Britain accepted
the tribunal's decision with good grace and cordial re-
lations between the two countries were resumed.

GRANT KEEPS THE PRICE OF GOLD DOWN

107

THE CRfeDIT MOBILIER AFFAIR— one of the

great railroad corruptions of the era. The Cr6dit
Mobilier was a construction company of the Union
Pacific Railway, formed for the express purpose of
taking over the contract for building the transcon-
tinental route. It was a highly lucrative device: as
Credit Mobilier, the Union Pacific stockholders
awarded to themselves fatly padded contracts for

construction and supplies, thus milking the railroad
dry of profits. To avoid governmental interference,
the financiers offered influential congressmen Cr6dit
Mobilier stock "at par," far below its real value. It
was a clear bribe, and it reflected on the public
morality of the time that the legislators were not
above accepting such graft. When a congressional
committee investigated the sordid business, Massa-

108

chusetts Representative Oakes Ames— who had dis-
tributed the bribes — was singled out as the scape-
goat. Ames remarked with dry humor that he felt
"like the man in Massachusetts who committed
adultery, and the jury brought in a verdict that he
was guilty as the devil but that the woman was as
innocent as an angel." The above cartoon was drawn
by artist Joseph Keppler and appeared in Puck.

WILLIAM M. TWEED, as chairman of the New
York Board of Supervisors and a deputy street com-
missioner, was in control of expenditures for public
works. He concocted a profitable scheme: for every
bit of work in the city — be it paving, cleaning of
streets, or the purchase of supplies — he asked the
contractors for bills which were 60 to 85 per cent
higher than the originals. The difference was then
distributed between Republican and Democratic
legislators — the Tweed Ring — who had originally
voted for the improvements. Thus the new courcy
courthouse, which the city was to build for $250,000,
cost the taxpayers $8,000,000, out of which $7,000,000
went into the pockets of the politicians. It is said that
the Tweed Ring in its short existence stole over $20,-
000,000 — a large enough sum to have built Brooklyn
Bridge.

That Tweed could steal in such grand manner
was partly because the poor and ignorant Irish and
German immigrants, who were helped by his ma-
chine, voted for him and his crooked companions,
and partly because rich and powerful citizens re-
ceived special privileges and were granted fat con-
tracts by the crooks. However, in the end, Boss
Tweed was unmasked and put into jail, where he died.

109

110

HORACE GREELEY, the flamboyant
editor of the New York Tribune, became
the presidential candidate of the Lib-
eral Republicans and the Democrats.

THE LIBERAL REPUBLICAN REVOLT

Lack of statesmanship in the administration, the
steadily mounting graft and corruption, the Radical
Republican stringent reconstruction policies created
unrest within the Republican ranks, which gradually
grew into an open rebellion against President Grant
and his political advisers. Some of the best brains in
the party abhorred the low morality of the admin-
istration and the malpractices which blossomed out
under Grant and were allowed to flourish without
punishment. These Republicans — "Liberal Repub-
licans" as they were called — caused a serious split in
the party. Determined to block a second term for
Grant, they assembled in a separate nominating
convention in Cincinnati and issued a platform — a
forceful attack on the Grant administration. They
pointed out that the President had "openly used the
powers and opportunities of his high office for the
promotion of personal ends," that he had "kept
notoriously corrupt and unworthy men in places of
power and responsibility, to the detriment of the
public interest," that he had "rewarded with influ-
ential and lucrative offices men who had acquired
his favor by valuable presents, thus stimulating the
demoralization of our political life by his conspicuous
example," that he had "shown himself deplorably
unequal to the task imposed upon him by the neces-
sities of the country, and culpably careless of the re-
sponsibilities of his high office." The Liberal Repub-
licans chose Horace Greeley as their presidential
candidate in the belief that the Democrats would
also endorse him, which they did.

The scurrilous campaign that followed ended in
General Grant's victory. He was still the hero of the
people. The defeated Greeley, broken in soul and spir-
it, died even before the electoral votes were counted.

Ill

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1*. QRATZ BROWN.

SAVAGE CARTOONS AGAINST GREELEY once used in a speech: "Let us clasp hands over the

Two samples from the pen of Thomas Nast, who bloody chasm" was used by Nast over and over

ceaselessly assailed Horace Greeley and fought him again in his text. His drawings repeatedly depicted

relentlessly. The harmless sentence which Greeley "Old Horace" as the man "over the bloody chasm."

A RARE ANTI-GRANT CARTOON
BY MATT MORGAN

113

CHAPTER VIII

"ANOTHER TERRIBLE TRIP
TO EUROPE"

In the well-ordered Roosevelt household the postwar clamor of grafters,
venal politicians, and the newly rich was scarcely audible. Family life continued
to move with grace and serenity.

When Theodore was eleven years old his father had a man-to-man talk with
him. "Vou have the mind, but not the body," the father said, "and without the
help of the body the mind cannot go as far as it should. You must make your
body. It is hard drudgery to make one's body, but I know you will do it."

And the boy responded to his father's advice with characteristic determina-
tion. He had embarked on the program of tedious body-building that was to
alter his entire outlook on life. The second floor of the 20th Street house had
been converted into an outdoor gymnasium with swings, seesaws, and parallel
bars. "For many years," his sister Corinne remembered, "one of my most vivid
recollections is seeing him between the horizontal bars, widening his chest by
regular, monotonous motion."

It was more than a year later that a humiliating incident re-emphasized to
Theodore his physical shortcomings. The scene was a stagecoach en route to
Moosehead Lake in Maine, where he was being sent to recuperate from a vio-
lent attack of asthma. Two boys his own age on the coach began taunting him
mercilessly during his coughing fits. Theodore tried to fight them — only to
discover that "either one singly could not only handle me with easy contempt,
but handle me so as not to hurt me much and yet to prevent my doing any
damage whatever in return."

This experience wounded him deeply. "I made up my mind," he later wrote,
"that I must never again be put in such a helpless position; and having become
quickly and bitterly conscious that I did not have the natural prowess to hold
my own, I decided I would try to supply its place by training."

In the fall of 1872 his parents took another trip to Europe. To the children
the itinerary was far more exciting than on the first trip, for it included the Holy
Land, parts of the Near East, and — best of all — a journey up the Nile River
by chartered boat. Elliott noted: "Teedie and I won't mind the Nile very much,
now that we have a boat to row in, perhaps it won't be so bad after all what with
rowing, boxing, and Christmas and playing, in between lessons and the ruins."

As on the earlier voyage, the boy kept a diary, noting the main events of each
day. The first stop was Liverpool, where the Roosevelts visited the Bulloths
and where Theodore made the entry that he was "much annoyed by the street
boys who immediately knew me for a Yankee and pestered me fearfully." From 115

GRANTS RE-ELECTION WAS HAILED BY
THOMAS NASTIN THIS BITING CARTOON
THE PRESIDENTS ENEMIES

England the family traveled via Bonn — "an old town and, like all old towns
has both advantages and disadvantages" — to Paris, and from there to Brindisi,
where they embarked for Alexandria.

The two-month voyage on the Nile was made in a dahabeah, or river boat.
The A boo Erdan was comfortable, but old and awkward; when the wind was
right, a sail was hoisted, and when sailing was not possible, the craft was towed
from the river bank by its native crew. For Teedie the most satisfying part of the
journey was the huge variety of strange wild life. Equipped with an ornitho-
logical guidebook and a double-barreled shotgun, he began in earnest to collect
specimens of birds and animals.

The ornithological book and the shotgun were, in a sense, symbols of a
curious conflict that was to take place in the boy's conscience for many years.
On the one hand, he had the instincts of an ardent conservationist and lover
of wild things. On the other hand, he liked to hunt. To his childhood friend
Edith Carow, who later became his wife, he wrote from Egypt that the gun his
father gave him at Christmas rendered him "happy and the rest of the family
miserable." And he added: "1 killed several hundred birds with it, and then
went and lost it!"

Along with his new enthusiasm for hunting, Teedie seemed to have acquired
a new fund of physical stamina. Asthma attacks occurred, but far less frequently
than in the past. For the first time he became the recognized leader of "We
Three." His physical energy seemed almost inexhaustible. "He is a most
enthusiastic sportsman," his father wrote, "and has infused some of his spirit
into me. Yesterday I walked through the bogs with him at the risk of sinking
hopelessly and helplessly, for hours, and carried the dragoman's gun, which is
a muzzle-loader, with which I only shot several birds quietly resting upon
distant limbs and fallen trees; but I felt I must keep up with Teedie." It was
the first time that the athletic father had ever found difficulty in matching the
pace set by the boy.

When not actually hunting, Teedie was likely to be leading Conie and Ellie
on exhaustive explorations through the historic ruins and ancient temples
that lined the Nile Valley. On shipboard his principal occupation was skinning
and stuffing his specimens, a ritual generally performed on deck before a
fascinated audience of native crew men. For the Roosevelt family, however, the
boy's taxidermy was not nearly so fascinating. On one occasion there was great
consternation when a well-meaning family maid placed in his personal wash kit
a toothbrush which, it turned out, he had been using to apply arsenical pre-
servative soap to animal skins. On another occasion Ellie rebelled against
sharing hotel rooms with a brother whose luggage included innumerable birds
and beasts in varying states of preservation.

In February the family left Egypt for a six- week tour of the Holy Land and

Syria, covering most of the route in a series of camping trips. For the children

the trip was one of almost continual delight. They tried unsuccessfully to dive

in the buoyant water of the Dead Sea; they saw the hill where Jesus was cru-

116 cified; they talked and traded ^ijth, Arab sheiks; they crossed the River Jordan

and rode caravan to the city of Damascus. From the Middle East the family
proceeded to Athens, which Theodore's diary describes as lacking "the mag-
nificent beauty of Baalbek and the gloomy grandeur of Karnak," and a week
later to Constantinople.

The parents decided that Theodore, Corinne, and Elliott would be boarded
for a few months with a family in Germany so that they might learn to speak
German and absorb some Old World culture. The two boys, and ultimately
Conie as well, stayed in the household of Dr. Minckwitz in Dresden, where they
found a delightful and intellectually profitable atmosphere. They always
remembered the kindliness and good cheer of their German hosts. Instruction
was ably provided by the three amiable and well-educated Minckwitz daugh-
ters; but the two sons, both students at the University of Leipzig, proved more
fascinating to the Roosevelt children. Both young men were members of duel-
ing corps, and both had many scars to prove it. One was known as "The Red
Duke" because of his scarlet hair, and the other as "Sir Rhinoceros" because
a dueling sword had once chopped off the tip of his nose.

In Dresden, Theodore continued his progress in boxing and added specimens
to his rapidly growing natural history collection. "Last night," Elliott wrote to
his uncle, "in a round of one minute and a half with Teedie, he got a bloody
nose and I got a bloody mouth, and in a round with Johnnie I got a bloody
mouth again and he a pair of purple eyes. Then Johnnie gave Teedie another
bloody nose." In a subsequent letter to his aunt, Theodore happily described
himself as "a bully boy with a black eye."

There were other diversions, too. In a letter to his father Teedie remarks that
he has been spending much time "translating natural history, wrestling with
Richard, a young cousin of the Minckwitz' whom I can throw as often as he
throws me, and I also sometimes cook, although my efforts in the culinary art
are really confined to grinding coffee, beating eggs, or making hash, and such
light labors."

It was in Dresden that the children first saw Shakespeare's A Midsummer
Night's Dream, Twelfth Night, and The Taming of the Shrew on the stage. Plays at the
German theaters began at six o'clock in the evening and were over by nine, so
the young Roosevelts were able to spend many delightful evenings simultane-
ously improving their knowledge of German and Shakespeare.

As the summer waned, Teedie recorded the state of his affairs: "Health; good.
Lessons; good. Play hours; bad. Appetite; good. Accounts; good. Clothes;
greasy. Shoes; holey. Hair; more a-la-Mop than ever." More significant, per-
haps, was a report of his brother Elliott about him: "Suddenly an idea has
got hold of Teedie that we did not know enough German for the time we have
been here, so he has asked Miss Anna to give him larger lessons, and of course
I could not be left behind so we are working harder than ever in our lives."

In October, Mrs. Roosevelt arrived in Dresden from Carlsbad, where she had
been taking the cure, to pick up her children; and in a few days they, complete
with souvenirs and specimens, were bidding fond farewells to the Minckwitz
family. The lovely days of Dresden had come to a close. 117

A DRAWING MADE BY THEODORE on his

second voyage to Europe, of various animal skeletons.
Shortly before the sailing it had been discovered
that he could not see well, and he was taken to a doc-
tor, who prescribed eyeglasses. "I had no idea how
beautiful the world was until I got those spectacles,"

he wrote in his Autobiography. "I had been a clumsy
and awkward little boy, and while much of my
clumsiness and awkwardness was doubtless due to
general characteristics, a great deal of it was due to
the fact that I could not see and yet was wholly
ignorant that I was not seeing."

AN ENTRY IN THE DIARY in Paris, on Novem-
ber 14, 1872: "In the morning I went out and
bought some larks and buntings, which I returned
home and skinned." Theodore was now in his taxi-
dermist phase. "After dinner I went out and took a
little walk, which was abruptly stopped by a rain
shower. .

"Paris is a good deal changed since 1870. The
traces of the Commune are seen everywhere. The
Palace of the Tuilleries is a mass of crumbling ruins
and the Column Vendome a mere stump. Burnt
buildings and pulled down houses are to be seen
everywhere. Father and Mother joined us tonight."

For the next week the most important event of
the day seemed to be that Teedie had "skinned
some birds in the morning," since this sentence is
repeated in his diary four times in as many days.

From Paris the Roosevelt family took the train
and traveled via Turin and Bologna, where "as
usual everybody combines to cheat you," to Brindisi
in Italy, where they boarded a ship which was to
take them to Alexandria and the wonders of the Nile.

118

HIS FIRST IMPRESSION OF EGYPT

Theodore wrote lyrically in his diary on November
28, 1872: "At eight o'clock we arrived in sight of
Alexandria. How I gazed on it! It was Egypt, the
land of my dreams. ... it was a sight to awaken a

thousand thoughts, and it did. . . . The broken re*
mains of numerous old Egyptian Gods were scat-
tered all around. On seeing this stately remain of
former glory I felt a great deal but I said nothing.
You can not express yourself on such an occasion."

119

THE ROOSEVELTS IN EGYPT

In December of 1872 the Roosevelt family and their
friends were in Cairo looking for a dahabeah — the
houseboat of the land. The Aboo Erdan pleased them,
"the nicest, coziest, pleasantest little place you ever
saw."

Journeying down the Nile, Theodore and his
father often left the boat, walking and shooting
along the river. The dry air helped Teedie's condi-
tion; his asthma attacks subsided. He hunted a
great deal, brought animals on board, and stuffed
the specimens. Every morning, Anna, the eldest of
the children, gave her younger brothers and sister
lessons in the French language.

The Roosevelts stopped at Luxor and visited the
temple of Karnak. Theodore was overawed. "It was
not only beautiful," he wrote in his diary, "it was
grand, magnificent and awe-inspiring. It seemed to
take me back thousands of years, to the time of the
Pharaohs and to inspire thought which can never
be spoken, a glimpse of the ineffable, of the
unutterable."

The family had a lovely time on the boat, and had
a most delightful time sight-seeing and hunting.
When the voyage was over and the boat returned to
Cairo everyone agreed that it was one of their
happiest experiences.

Once, as they were mooring near another
dahabeah, they discovered Ralph Waldo Emerson
with his daughter, who also were touring Egypt,
and they called on him. What Theodore's impression
was of Emerson, we do not know; unfortunately, he
did not record it. But he recorded that "There has
always been something to do, for we could always
fall back upon shooting when everything else failed
us." And he proudly added up at the end of the
voyage his accomplishment: during the journey he
had procured no less than "one to two hundred
skins."

The group photograph, probably taken during
the time the Roosevelts were staying at Shepheard's
Hotel in Cairo, shows from left to right (leaning on
the chairs): Augustus Jay of New York, Francis
Merriam of Boston, and Clift Smith of New York.
Sitting: Edith Smith, Mrs. and Mr. Theodore Roose-
velt, Mrs. Clift Smith, Elizabeth Clift Smith, and
Nathaniel Thayer. The four Roosevelt children on
the floor: Anna, Corinne, Theodore, and Elliott.

120

121

THE DRESDEN LITERARY AMERICAN CLUB: "WE ARE NO ASSES"

The tousle-haired boy on the left, almost fifteen years old, is Theodore Roosevelt; next to
him is his younger brother, Elliott. Standing: Cousin Maude Elliott. On the right: Corinne
Roosevelt and her cousin John Elliott. After their journey in Egypt, Syria, Greece, and
Turkey the Roosevelt children went by boat and train to Dresden, Germany, where they
stayed with a German family. As their mother's sister-in-law, the widow of Stuart Elliott,
was living in Dresden with her four children, she kept an eye on her Roosevelt nephews
and niece — who were studying in the Saxon city the life and language of the German people.

122

A TRAGEDY is described and drawn by Teedie.
"My arsenic was confiscated and my mice thrown out
of the window. In cases like this I would approach a

refractory female, mouse in hand, corner her, and
bang the mouse very near her face until she was . . .
convinced of the wickedness of her actions."

THE YOUNG NATURALIST

Animal sketches by Theodore Roose-
velt, made in the seventies. He had
learned to be more scientific, de-
scribing animals with their proper
Latin names and where he had ob-
served them. "Elanus coeruleus — I
found this handsome little kite com-
mon in Egypt in winter. It feeds on
insects, which it takes on the wing,
and also on lizards, etc. It flies very
swiftly and beautifully," reads one
of his ornithological observations
made in Egypt. Another record
from Germany: "Palumbus tor-
quatus — I found it cpmmon in
summer around Dresden." A French
notation: "Podiceps minor — Com-
mon in the small pools near Paris."

A PICTURE LETTER BY THEODORE. The

last page of one of his letters writ ten 'in Dresden to
his sister Anna, illustrating his idea of the Darwinian
theory in reverse as it would affect him, changing
his figure into that of a stork, his brother Elliott
into a bull, and his cousin Johnny into a monkey.

123

CHAPTER IX

DEPRESSION AND UNREST

On September 1 8, 1 873 — about the time the not yet fifteen-year-old Theodore
Roosevelt horrified his hosts in Germany "by bringing home a dead bat" — an
incredulous American public first heard the news that Jay Cooke and Company,
the financial world's Rock of Gibraltar, had gone into bankruptcy. It was the
dramatic end to the era of Northern prosperity that followed the Civil War.

The effects of Jay Cooke's disastrous failure were felt all over the land. The
New York Stock Exchange suspended operations for ten days. In the economic
stagnation that followed, there were 5,830 bankruptcies in 1874; 7,740 in 1875;
and 10,478 in the rock-bottom year of 1878. And as the depression spread, half
of the iron and steel mills were shut down, and about 500,000 workers were
laid off in the railway industry alone.

Augmenting the physical hardship of economic privation was the demoral-
ization brought on by an increasing loss of public faith in the practices of the
nation's business community. Almost every business failure revealed some de-
gree of fraud, gross selfishness, or just plain incompetence on the part of private
management. When banks closed their doors the small depositors suffered, but
the officers and directors usually managed to emerge relatively unscathed.
As example after example of financial chicanery was laid bare, Wall Street
became the target of an ever-increasing volume of public outcry.

Long before the business panic had struck the industrial East, the farmers
of the Middle West were tasting the bitter fruit of economic hardship. As with
industry, their basic problem was overexpansion. The amount of flour received
in the Chicago market increased tenfold between 1854 and 1868; the amount
of wheat more than fivefold. Throughout the Civil War prices remained high.
But by 1869 wheat and flour were piling up in the shipping centers, and prices
paid to the farmer dropped by 20, 30, and finally as much as 50 per cent.

The American farmer would not accept these conditions without protest.
He had gone West in response to the promise of prosperity, and he felt bitter
and disillusioned that the promise had been an empty one. For him it was a
harsh life, particularly on the Great Plains, where winters were icy, summers
parched, and neighbors were few and far between. Many homesteaders had
moved to the western country with nothing but a few pieces of furniture, some
tools — and hope. When hope failed, there was nowhere to turn but back. A
familiar sight during the seventies were the eastward-traveling covered wagons
with such inscriptions as "In God We Trusted, In Kansas We Busted."

The bitterness of these hard-pressed farmers was directed at several targets:
the railroads, the stock and grain dealers, and the bankers who held farm 125

AN EARLY ANTI-UNION CARTOON

BY THOMAS NAST
DRAWN IN MAY, 1871

mortgages. The abuses practiced by railroads were often blatant and open.
Freight rates were so high that a bushel of corn might bring the farmer 15$
in Iowa and yet sell for 70* in the East. The railroad men were arrogant, they
abused the small farmers in the same way that they abused the government.
By issuing free passes, bribing brazenly, and buying legislators, they insured
themselves by keeping their special privileges.

If the railroad men were bad, the produce dealers and middlemen were
even worse. As they owned storage facilities, they had the power to buy wheat
at low prices and sell at high. By 1870 about half the amount paid for a bushel
of wheat in the East was going into a middleman's pocket. The banks, mean-
while, were taking advantage of the farmers' poor bargaining position by set-
ting mortgage interest rates as high as 15 or even 20 per cent.

It was not difficult for the farmer to realize that as long as he remained un-
organized, the banks, the middlemen, and the railroads would burden him
with exorbitant demands. Divided, he was the victim of every businessman
with whom he dealt; united, he would exercise tremendous power. Thus, the
Patrons of Husbandry — better known as the Grange — the first national
farmers' organization, came into being; within a few years it boasted a mem-
bership of 1,500,000. Through their organization, farmers were soon learning
the advantages of pooling their purchases, of paying cash, and of by-passing
middlemen. Typical of the achievements along these lines was the formation,
with Grange endorsement, of the great mail-order house of Montgomery
Ward. This thriving company saved millions of dollars for farmers simply by
forcing local dealers to sell at fair prices.

In many states of the Middle West the farmers formed independent agrarian
parties, elected congressmen and legislators to carry out their programs, and
requested that private corporations should be regulated by the government
in the interests of the public welfare.

Obviously, the lessons of the Grange could not be lost on the urban indus-
trial workers. But unlike agrarian organization, the labor movement — with
3,000,000 unemployed during the depression years — progressed slowly. The
leading labor organization was the Knights of Labor, formed in 1869 by the
Philadelphia garment cutter Uriah S. Stevens. Dedicated to the aim of "one
big union," the Knights aroused little enthusiasm among many trade-unionists
who did not wish to join with unskilled workers. Another labor organization
was the secret society known as the "Molly Maguires." An outgrowth of the
Ancient Order of Hibernians, the Molly Maguire movement was limited to
the anthracite coal mining region of Pennsylvania, where it fought bad work-
ing conditions by methods of property destruction and even assassination.

Despite the weakness of labor, the first great nationwide strike in the
country's history was attempted in the summer of 1877 by the Brotherhood
of Locomotive Engineers, an organization that included trainmen, trackmen,
and conductors. This powerful union of 50,000 members had long been a
thorn in the side of railway management. Determined to break its strength,
126 the railroads ordered flat wage cuts of 10 per cent. In the strike, federal troops

and local police fought the battle for management. In Baltimore nine strikers
were killed, scores wounded; in Pittsburgh twenty-five were killed, and an en-
raged mob did millions of dollars' worth of damage to railroad property.

Ultimately the strike failed, but its memory lingered on. Capital learned for
the first time that organized workers represented a power that could not be
lightly dismissed; and labor, despite its defeat, attained a new sense of
solidarity. One direct result of the strike was labor's participation with Western
agrarians in the Greenback-Labor movement a year later. On a ticket
demanding fiscal and industrial reform, the new party won over a million votes
and, to the surprise of everyone, elected fourteen congressmen.

The combination of depression, labor unrest, and agrarian revolt seriously
weakened President Grant's popularity. His position was further jeopardized
by a series of new political scandals that came to light during his second term,
underlining the nepotism and general ineptness of the party in power.

Next to railroad graft, perhaps the most flagrant source of political immo-
rality was the internal revenue system, which presented easy opportunities for
unscrupulous corporations that wished to evade taxes. The worst offenders
were the liquor distillers. A so-called "Whisky Ring," operating principally in
St. Louis and composed of distillers and U.S. revenue agents, had been
mulcting the government out of hundreds of thousands of dollars in taxes.
Grant's private secretary was implicated, and the President himself, though
innocent of any awareness of what had been going on, was found to have ac-
cepted gifts from the Whisky Ring that indicated a regrettable lack of sense
for the proprieties.

Other revelations proved scarcely more palatable. In the Treasury Depart-
ment, Secretary William A. Richardson had to send in his resignation after
one of his agents had been rewarded with a 50-per-cent commission for col-
lecting $427,000 in overdue revenue. Secretary of War W. W. Belknap also
resigned to avoid impeachment when it was discovered that he had been paid
a total of $24,450 as a bribe to retain in office an unscrupulous post trader at
Fort Sill in the Indian Territory. And Congress did little to purify the Wash-
ington atmosphere when in 1873 it callously approved the "Salary-Grab"
Act, under which all congressmen were given a 50-per-cent pay increase,
retroactive to 1871. This bill met with such vigorous public censure that it had
to be repealed in short order.

With so many black marks on its record, there was no surprise when, in
the mid-term elections of 1874, the Republican administration suffered a
severe setback. Democrats won control of the House of Representatives by a
majority of 70 — by far their best showing in any national election since the
Civil War. Most of the Southern states were in the Democratic column. The
Republican dream of using the Negro vote to dominate that area failed.

Thus, while America "went to the dogs," Theodore Roosevelt prepared for
the future. It was in September 1873 that he returned from Dresden to the
States and, better equipped mentally and stronger physically, took up studies
which in three years' time enabled him to become enrolled at Harvard. 127

THE PANIC OF 1873

The rapid expansion in business and industry turned
out goods in greater quantities than the country
could absorb. This condition brought on the financial
panic of 1873, one of the severest in the nation's his-
tory. The cost of living was high, wages were low. In
desperation the workers struck back at the employ-
ers. There were strikes on the railroads, there were
strikes in the mines. The laboring men realized that
their demands for higher wages and better working
conditions could only be made effective if they acted
together as a group and not as individuals. Thus
they held congresses in the large cities, in which
they asked for the eight-hour working day, for gov-
ernment inspection of mines and factories, for the
regulation of railroad rates, the cessation of further
land grants to the mammoth railroad corporations,
the establishment of an income tax, and the exclu-
sion of cheap Chinese labor. They further demanded
free public education for their children and the cre-
ation of a Labor Department in Washington. These
demands, growing out of hardship and poverty,
came as a reaction to the enormous fortunes irrespon-
sible capitalists had amassed by exploiting the men
who worked for them. They had to be considered.

UNCLE SAM with his reform stick beats out the
corrupt mushrooms of the Grant administration — a
cartoon by Joseph Keppler in Puck, the outstanding
political and satirical weekly.
The country, disgusted with the graft and comip-

128

tion of the Grant administration, had turned its back
on the Republicans and elected a Democratic House of
Representatives. The Senate remained in Republican
hands, but by a diminished majority. The reform cle-
ment in the Republican party — the Liberal Republi-

cans— asked for a thorough housecleaning. "Let no
guilty man escape," exclaimed President Grant. But
these belated and pious words had hardly any mean-
ing. Most of the culprits had not only escaped, but
had kept the money they had stolen from the public.

129

i '••'''•:. ••'•J3y!tir~^G&'

w^Misis

'!V'*.«£ .•;** - %k/'

»».''' • ^?OL»' * «s '"• A ' ' iW *:^ '

GRANT AS CAESAR— a biting cartoon by Matt Morgan in Frank Leslie's Illustrated News-
paper, satirizing President Grant as a Roman emperor sitting upon a pile of moneybags,
and replying to the pleas of the Boys in Blue: "No! No! I make it a rule only to receive. I
never give anything." Toward the end of his second administration the President's popu-
larity was at its lowest ebb. The country which had cheered him so enthusiastically at the
commencement of his presidency was sorely disappointed. With the aureole of the
military hero dimmed, Grant was seen in his real colors— an inept bungler under whom
graft and corruption were rampant. The American people grew bitter that their hero did
not measure up to their ideal, they grew bitter when they discovered that he had feet of clay.

130

SCANDALS UNDER GRANT-the Sanborn con-
tracts. A law of 1872 allowed high fees for collecting
bad debts for the government. A man named San-
born began to collect not bad but good debts to the
tune of almost half a million dollars, keeping 50 per
cent as commission, a large part of which went to
Benjamin F. Butler, a political friend of the President.

SCANDALS UNDER GRANT-the Whisky Ring
and the Belknap bribe. (1) A ring of revenue offi-
cials in St. Louis accepted large sums of money from
distillers for nonpayment of taxes on whisky.
(2) Secretary of War William Belknap was allowed by
President Grant "with great regret" to resign after
taking bribes from an Indian agent at Fort Sill.

TROUBLES UNDER GRANT— the farmers in the West rebelled. Their demands for a
better life were attacked and labeled by some papers as Communist and un-American.

131

CHAPTER X

THE PLEASURE OF
GROWING UP

By the time the Roosevelts were settled in their new house in New York —
Mr. Roosevelt had sold the 20th Street property and moved "uptown" to a
house near the corner of 57th Street and Fifth Avenue — the depression was
at its height.

Bad times had no effect on the Roosevelts, whose economic prosperity
rested on a sound and conservative foundation. Least of all did they affect the
existence of young Theodore, whose major problem at this time was to pre-
pare himself for admission to Harvard College.

Although his health had greatly improved, his asthma attacks were still too
troublesome to permit his being sent away to boarding school. His previous
education had been so irregular that there was no school into which he could
have fitted readily. In some subjects — history and languages, for example — he
was well ahead of most boys his age. In other subjects, most notably Latin and
mathematics, he was far behind. Therefore it was thought that the best solution
was to place him in the hands of a young tutor, who could also supervise Elliott
and Corinne's studies as well. Such a man was found in the person of Arthur
W. Cutler, who later founded the Cutler School in New York. His able tutelage
— combined with the conscientiousness of the pupil — enabled Theodore to
accomplish three years' work in two.

The job of preparing Theodore for college was made somewhat easier
by the huge fund of miscellaneous geographic and historical knowledge the boy
had acquired in Europe, and by the scientific background that his interest in
natural history had given him. Most helpful of all, he had been a voracious
reader throughout his young life. "There was," he recalled later, "very little
effort made to compel me to read books, my father and mother having the good
sense not to try to get me to read anything I did not like, unless it was in the
way of study. I was given the chance to read books that they thought I ought
to read, but if I did not like them I was then given some other good book that
I did like." This wise parental policy made books a joy and encouraged the
boy's reading habits; thus, at the age often, he was able to record in his diary
that he had already devoured some fifty novels.

Concentrated though his college preparatory studies were, they did not
curtail Theodore's progress in other fields. He matured rapidly; the small-boy
nickname of "Teedie" was applied to him less and less frequently. Friends
addressed him now as Teddy (which he disliked throughout his life) or, more 133

THEODORE AND ELLIOTT ROOSEVELT WITH
EDITH CAROW (ON THE GROUND) AND

~-~r,*n oroT-i-n n/*>DT\f\ri? 7VTJE/J? YRAR OF 1875

often, as Theodore. He became more interested in girls and joined in the well-
regulated social life of the young people in his family's milieu. He attended with
pleasure a carefully recruited dancing class that his parents had organized in
the city; and he became a leader in such group activities as skating parties and
picnics in Central Park.

This blossoming social life was given considerable impetus in 1874 when his
parents decided to join the summer colony that had been started at Oyster Bay,
Long Island, many years earlier by the children's grandfather. The house they
rented for the next three summers was named "Tranquillity " — a source of con-
siderable amusement to their friends. "Anything less tranquil than that happy
home at Oyster Bay could hardly be imagined," Theodore's sister recalled.

But to the Roosevelt children it seemed enchanted. There were endless
horseback rides through open fields and country lanes. There were swimming
parties and picnics. And, most enjoyable of all, there were frequent all-day
boat trips across the bay, where the children and their friends would spend the
afternoon stretched out on the sand, indulging in poetry contests or reading
aloud to one another. A favorite companion for Theodore on these excursions
was Edith Kermit Carow, who was one day to become his wife — the same
"Eidieth" whose portrait had led Teedie to such pangs of homesickness in Paris
five years earlier.

Theodore's new social life was not without its minor catastrophes. His sister
has described one ridiculous episode that took place when Theodore rowed
across Oyster Bay to visit a young lady on the opposite side. "He started at five
o'clock in the morning," writes Corinne, "and reached the other shore at eight
o'clock. Thinking it too early to pay a call, he lay down on a large rock and
went to sleep, waking up to find his boat had drifted far away. When he put
on his spectacles he could see the boat at a distance, but, of course, did not
wish to swim with his clothes on, and decided to remove them temporarily.
Having secured the boat, he forgot that it might be wise to put on his clothes
before sleeping again under the dock. To his perfect horror, waking suddenly
about an hour later, the boat, clothes, and all had vanished. At the same
moment he heard the footsteps of his fair inamorata on the wooden planks of
the dock above his head. She had walked down with a friend to greet the admirer
whom she expected at about nine o'clock. His description of his feelings as he
lay shivering, though not from cold, while above him they calmly discussed his
probable arrival and the fact that they thought they would wait there to greet
him, can probably be imagined." Eventually he was able to retrieve his clothes,
but he was so annoyed at being placed in that embarrassing plight that he rowed
back home without paying the proposed visit.

Along with his social and academic activities, Theodore also found time to
continue the body-building program he had launched in the gymnasium on
20th Street five years earlier. In Dresden he had stopped keeping his youthful
diary; now it was resumed in 1875 as a "sporting calendar," in which he
recorded the milestones of his athletic progress. The entries were terse and
134 uniformly favorable to Theodore, who referred to himself in the third person

throughout: "Race between Johnny & Theodore. Theodore won/' "Theodore
& West wrestling and boxing. T. won." "Vaulting. Theodore, Elliott & W.
Jacobs. T. won making 5 ft. 8Vi in." "Wrestling Theodore beat Elliott."

Boxing lessons under the kindly tutelage of ex-prize fighter John Long
continued. On one occasion the instructor, hoping to encourage more vigorous
competition among his pupils, staged a tournament in which, to everyone's
surprise, Theodore won first prize among the lightweight contenders and was
duly awarded a pewter mug to commemorate the triumph — one of his favorite
possessions. His increased physical stamina also became evident on the several
camping trips that he made during this period in the Adirondack Mountains
and in the Maine woods. To his sister Anna he wrote from Maine in 1875: "I
have just come back from an eight days trip to Mt. Katahdin with Arthur
and Emlen. Rather to my surprise I found that I could carry heavier loads and
travel farther and faster than either of them; and could stand rough work better."

Other letters to his elder sister revealed his continuing interest in natural
history. From Oyster Bay he wrote in August 1876: "I spent the early part of
this week at the Osbornes and had a lovely time, the days being full of 'orni-
thological enjoyment and reptilian rapture.' I came home with ajar of pickled
toads and salamanders." Again from Oyster Bay: "I am writing in a rather
smelly room as the fresh skins of eight night herons are reposing on the table
beside me." Long Island proved a fertile field for the young ornithologist, and
he happily put in long hours at gathering, mounting and classifying his grow-
ing collection of specimens. "I worked with greater industry than either intel-
ligence or success," he noted forty years later, "and made very few additions
to the sum of human knowledge; but to this day certain obscure ornithological
publications may be found in which are recorded such items as, for instance,
that on one occasion a fish-crow and on another an Ipswich sparrow, were
obtained by one Theodore Roosevelt Jr. at Oyster Bay, on the shore of Long
Island Sound."

Theodore was keen to make natural history his profession. During the
summers at Oyster Bay and the first year at college, he and his father had many
long and serious talks on this subject. The father's advice was tolerant and sen-
sible: if Theodore really wanted to devote his life to nonremunerative scientific
work, he was free to do so, and with parental blessing. But he must realize that
it would mean a far more modest scale of living than he had been accustomed
to; and above all, he must approach any such work, not halfheartedly, but
with just as much determination and earnestness as if he were trying to make
his own way in the business world. Choosing a naturalist's career must under
no circumstances serve as an excuse for a life of mere dilettantism.

In the spring of 1876 he took the entrance examinations for Harvard, passing
them with ease. And in September of the same year he left Oyster Bay and
the house on 57th Street for Cambridge.

135

AFTER THE SECOND TRIP TO EUROPE

Theodore was more confident of himself than ever
before. He was no longer a weak and sickly boy, no
longer an easy prey for bullies. He could take care
of himself, he could use his fists and his muscles.
Carleton Putnam in the outstanding study on
Roosevelt's formative years gives this perceptive
thumbnail sketch: "Young Theodore's rebellion
against his personal limitations and the traits this
struggle had developed were already beginning to
be transferred to other, more objective fields. He was
continuing to show an almost ruthless singleminded-
ness where his interests were aroused. The exhaus-
tive fashion in which he described and classified his
collection, the pains he took in skinning, dissecting
and stuffing specimens, above all the initiative and
sustained effort implicit in his approach, were more
and more suggestive of a purposeful, determined
personality." He had positive opinions, he had defi-
nite judgments, which — though at times wrong —
were always firm. Following the footsteps of his
father, whom he admired, he lived a clean and
moral life. Aware of his social position, he was willing
to give a shining example of how to behave toward
those who were less fortunate than he himself.

on Mo return with his family fro* a long ftiropean trip rreai~
dent ftooftovolt, than Theodore Roooovolt, jr., began Me preparation for
college in October irrt under the direction of Arthur H. Cutior. It
waa tho tally plan from tho beginning that young Rooa<milt*a education
ehoull be aa prootiool ee tbo deoande of Marram than allow*!, home ho
wan prepare* on tho mlnlmm requirement only In Greek, but OBphaalo woo
laid en nothOBatloe, rie»eiitory ftol*noo, Latin and Hlotory, while nodorn
languecea were etudlel under not Ire toaonere. At fir at the atudiee
were a«rrla4 on by the »otnod of olaoa work, rroeldont Mooaawatt being
Joined by hi* brother, tha lata 111 lot Rooawvolt and by Ma ooualn, tha
lata W, woot Heoeeralt In forcing tha olaeo, but taring tha laat pert
•f hla preparation tha work waa antlraly individual aa ha alone off tha
throe pr appeal to ontor Harvard. Although thla preparation VM bogun
in a tentative way in U*f it waa not until tha OUNMT of 1S*4 that a
oerlouo plan of otudy waa undertaken, but from that tiaw tha olert,

vigoroBO atanotar of young Baoooralt'a alnd b«o»ia ovidont and ho oaat-

/
plotad in two yooro tha work whioh had uaually raaulrad tnroo yaan. It

oannot bo aali that tho future Proaidxint axhibltod profiolanoy In one
lino aura than anothor; ho did oxoollontly In all linoo and wtillo ho
•aaaad to onjoy aoro tho «tudy of Vodont Unguag** *M Rlatory, ho did
not Mfloot nathoMtloo or tha dry anolont languagoa.

It waa tho fudly bollof that otudy olioiald oontlnuo in OUMMT
M woll ao in wlntor, and oo work waa purouod at Oyotor tay during July,
AuctMt and toptoMbor aa at tho town houoo o toot 8Tth fltroot during tho
root wf tho yoar. Study' va* not oovoro during tho •uwwr, rooitationo
and wropovatlM raroly looting MOTO than throo hour* dolly, from • to

IB, whlla tha wlntor work took from alx to alght hour* dally,
were ohort roooaaaa too of ton daya or a fortnight, one lato in Juno,
another in Auguat for a oaapinf oxouralon to tha Adlrondaoko, a third
lato in September and a fourth at Chrlatoaa, but there were oubotantially
ton Bontha of foimal otudy in oaoh yoar. flow nuoh Infoncal otudy there
waa prooldont Roooovolt hlwaelf alone oan toll for hla Bind woo attracted
in many dlmetlono thon oo now. Tho young BOH never aooawd to know
what idlonooo waa and ovary lalaure voBont would find tho loot novol,
OOBO Bvliofc olMoio or oomo abotruoo boot on latural Hlotory in bio
hand. Tho atudy of latural llatory woo hla ahlof reoroatlon than oo
it BOO oontlnuod to oo. la hod an unuooally largo oollootion of blrdo
and OBOII aniaolo, ahot and awuntod by hiaoolf , and ranging la habitat
froB Bjnrpt to tho wooda of foBnoylTanla. in hio oxourolono outoido
tho alty, hla rine wmo alwayo with mte, and tho outfit of o toaOAomiot
trip.

in tho Outlor aobool of thio alty, hut aohool lifo with tho ramlflootiano
of otblotloo, ooolotioo and oahool thootrioalo woo •dnnun at that tiao,
b«t tho fttturo Prooldont nod onoh oport if thoro woo no gridiron foot-
boll flold whore ho oouid taokla Ma opponent nor any ointor trook whore
bo oould opriat. no rodo horiabaok BUOB ond woll, ho bond woll, ho
abot woll (oo wo ho?o oald) and he woo the fleoteet of hi* amtoo in tholr
bar foot roooo. Bo oeomod to have looa Intoroot in oalllng than would
ho oapootom of ono who opont throo nantbo of oooh wow at Oyotor Bay,
but that WM probably beeouoe BO nany rthor thlaga latrooted

REMINISCENCES OF HIS TUTOR. Theodore
Roosevelt began serious preparation for Harvard in
October 1873. His tutor was Arthur H. Cutler, who
left a memorandum as to his pupil's ability. "He

completed," wrote Cutler, "in two years the work
which had usually required three years." Theodore
studied diligently summer and winter, especially
enjoying the study of modern languages and history.

136

THEODORE'S SPORTING CALENDAR, in weight was 124 pounds, his height 5 feet 8 inches,

which he noted the exact measurements of his chest, In keeping track of his athletic achievements he jotted

waist, thigh, neck, shoulders, and arms on November down everything that seemed to him important with

1, 1875. Now seventeen, he was still slender; his the same care which had characterized his diaries.

THE NEW SUMMER HOME on Cove Neck
Road, at Oyster Bay, Long Island, where the
Roosevelts went after their return from abroad in
1874. It was called "Tranquillity" and looked some-
what like Mrs. Roosevelt's paternal home in Georgia.

The family stayed there in the summer months,
while their winter address was now 6 West 57th
Street. The former home on 20th Street had been
sold so they could be nearer Central Park and out
in the country, which 57th Street was in those days.

137

CHAPTER XI

THE YEAR OF 1876

In 1876, the year Theodore entered Harvard, the United States celebrated
the centennial of the Declaration of Independence. In its first hundred years
the country had grown far beyond the wildest dreams of the Founding Fathers.
It had grown into a spectacular land, in which good and evil were holding a
precarious balance. An unfriendly observer coming to our shores in 1876 might
have painted a gloomy picture of American life, showing in dark colors the
worst aspects: industrial strife, demoralizing bread lines, political corruption,
ugly and decrepit housing conditions of the poor. But a friendly observer,
while admitting all the abuses, would have pointed out that beneath the trou-
bled surface the progress of the nation had been greater than that of any other
country in all the world's history.

The event that did more than anything else to make Americans appreciate
their own achievement was the great Centennial Fair at Philadelphia. The
numerous exhibits from abroad were balanced by thousands of American
ones. Household wares from England, textiles from France, jewels from India,
watches from Switzerland, lacquer from Japan, ivory from Africa, clocks from
Germany were more than matched by demonstrations of special skills by
Waltham's watchmakers, Trenton's ceramic workers, Lowell's textile weavers.
It was perhaps the greatest exhibition of all times. Ten million visitors came —
almost a fourth of the country's population — to gasp at the industrial, tech-
nical, and cultural wonders.

A few short weeks after the fair closed, the nation went to the polls to select
its next President in the most closely contested election of American history.
Ever since the Democratic resurgence in the mid-term elections of 1874, it had
been apparent that the Republican party was in danger of losing the Presi-
dency. With business failures steadily increasing and with scandal after scan-
dal revealing the ineptitude of the Republican administration, the Democrats
were certain that the next Chief Magistrate would be chosen from their ranks.

For the high office, Rutherford B. Hayes, the Republican governor of Ohio,
opposed Samuel J. Tilden, the liberal, reform-minded Democratic governor of
New York. And when the votes were counted, it seemed that Samuel J. Tilden
would be the next President of the United States. On the night of the election,
even the most resolutely Republican newspapers conceded his triumph. But in
the early hours of the following day, editors of the New York Times discovered
a ray of hope; they saw a possibility of eking out a Republican victory in the
electoral college. At daybreak they sent a message to the party's national
chairman, Zachariah Chandler, who was at the time sleeping off the effects of 139

READYFOR HARVARD.
THEODORE IN 1876

liquor taken the previous night. Republican victory depended on winning
three Southern states — South Carolina, Florida, and Louisiana — which had
been generally assumed to have gone Democratic but which were still under
carpetbag control. If the Republicans could retain their grip in these three
states, the victory would be theirs. In the electoral college 185 votes constituted
the majority. Thus, if the votes of the three doubtful states could be counted
for Hayes, he would be the President, winning the office by a single vote.

Instantly telegrams went out from party headquarters to Republican leaders
in the three states. "Hayes is elected if we have carried South Carolina,
Florida, and Louisiana. Can you hold your state?" By late afternoon Chandler
felt confident enough to issue the statement: "Hayes has 185 electoral votes
and is elected."

It was many weeks, however, before this verdict could be reached officially.
Congress placed the decision in the hands of an electoral commission, and this
commission, by a strict party-line vote, decided in favor of Hayes. Thus the
Republicans won the Presidency — but in a larger sense it was a Democratic
victory. The federal troops were withdrawn from the South, bringing to an
end the Reconstruction era, and from that time on, the South has been a
stronghold of the Democratic party.

During the seventies the idealistic energies of social reformers began to take
root in American soil. The American people, painfully aware of their short-
comings in their moral and social responsibilities, began to correct their faults.

The first municipal health board in New York was given power to close up
some of the city's disease-infested slums, ordering tenement owners to improve
housing conditions for their more than 100,000 tenants. The "poorhouses,"
filthy and unsanitary, holding indigent families, were improved. The reformers
turned their attention to prisons, rampant with corruption and cruelty, to
abuses of animals, and this, in turn, led to the crusade against cruelty to help-
less children. That story is a fascinating one and worth telling.

It was in 1874 that a starved and beaten nine-year-old girl was brought be-
fore a New York municipal court, and the court was asked that the girl be con-
sidered an animal, because as such she would have the protection of the law
for mistreated beasts. The reformer Jacob Riis, later a friend of Theodore
Roosevelt, described the Scene in the courtroom: "I saw the unclothed child
laid at the feet of the judge, who turned his face away, and in the stillness of
that courtroom I heard a voice raised, claiming for that child the protection
man had denied it, in the name of the hopeless cur on the streets." The case
of the little girl impressed the people so deeply that it led to the formation of
the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children.

One questions why conditions could become so wretched in a free, demo-
cratic society. The answer is not hard to give. The seventies and the decades
after them were the decades of the laissez-faire philosophy. Let people alone,
let them solve their own problems and difficulties; do not interfere with them.
Society believed that as there should be no restriction or governmental inter-
ference with business, there should likewise be no interference in the relation-
140 ship of parents and their children. But, when freedom of action was abused

by irresponsible men, it became necessary to put restrictions on such freedom
to protect the weak and the helpless.

Much of the humanitarian endeavor originated in the nation's churches,
where men like Dwight L. Moody, the great evangelist, made Americans
aware of their obligation to better the lot of their fellow men. One direct out-
growth of this "revivalist" movement was the American branch of the Salva-
tion Army, which achieved early and widespread support for its program of
rescuing the souls of society's derelicts. More secular, though also with heavy
religious overtones, were the Young Men's and Young Women's Christian As-
sociations, which both scored tremendous gains in membership during the
seventies.

But the movement through which religion accomplished its greatest social
influence was the crusade against intoxicating liquor. As a natural reaction
against the moral laxity of the postwar years, the movement acquired new ag-
gressiveness in the 1870s with a war against "Demon Rum" and the political
and social problems that intemperance had created. The Women's Christian
Temperance Union, which started in 1874 as a praying crusade to shut down
saloons in upstate New York and Ohio, became by the end of the decade a
national organization of such strength that it caused serious concern to the
liquor interests and practical politicians.

Closely allied with the temperance movement was the women's suffrage
crusade, which had its beginnings in pre-Civil War days but emerged with new
vigor in these years. The emancipation of the Negro added an effective weapon
to the suffrage advocates' arsenal: why, so people asked, were women not
entitled to equal rights with ex-slaves? Two indefatigable women, Susan B.
Anthony and Elizabeth Cady, led the battle, lecturing, writing, and organ-
izing demonstrations wherever they could obtain a hearing. "We speak in
school houses, barns, sawmills, log cabins with boards for seats and lanterns
strung around for lights," wrote Miss Anthony during a crusade in Kansas,
"but people come twenty miles to hear." Often ridiculed by women as well as
by men, they nevertheless added thousands of converts to their banner with
each succeeding year. That, in the end, success would crown their endeavor
could never be in doubt.

Though many good citizens joined the reform movements, many opposed
them, as they interfered in affairs that were said to be none of the reformers'
business — a cry which one has heard whenever powerful interests have had to
submit to regulations making them respect the rights of their economically in-
ferior brother. But the very feet that such movements could flourish in the
America of the seventies and that they could produce results was greatly heart-
ening; it indicated that the country was awakening to its moral and social re-
sponsibility. The new interest in humanitarian endeavor, like the accomplish-
ments displayed at the great centennial in Philadelphia, was welcome evidence
that the nation was entering its second century of existence in a fundamentally
sound condition.

141

THE CENTENNIAL OF INDEPENDENCE

was celebrated by a great world's fair at Philadelphia,
the birthplace of the republic. On May 10, 1876,
President Ulysses S. Grant opened the Exhibition. It
was a great moment in the nation's history. Casting
aside the cares and worries of the depression, Amer-

icans renewed their faith in themselves. They showed
their industrial, scientific, and cultural achievements,
and what glorious achievements they were! The Ex-
hibition pointed to a new era of industrial expansion,
to an era of abundance and of better and more com-
fortable living for all those who could afford it.

THE CORLISS ENGINE, one of
the industrial wonders of the fair,
furnished power to all the machinery
in the main exhibition hall. This
marvel of the age had 1,500 horse-
power and weighed 8,000 tons. Ten
million visitors came to see it and
the other exhibits that showed the
enormous strides that had been made
in technology. True, the country was
in the midst of a severe depression
with hundreds of thousands unem-
ployed and with bread lines miles
long, but it was true also that within
the last two decades the nation's
wealth had increased threefold; the
steel output alone had in one decade
multiplied almost a hundred times.

142

THE KRUPP GUN EXHIBIT, a proof of German
superiority in the construction of murderous weapons,
weapons so frightening that they were to stop all wars.
The possible havoc of such guns would be so great—
so the political oracles said — that it would not pay
nations to settle differences on battlefields, a proph-

MOST ADMIRED EXHIBIT

was the telephone, the invention of
Alexander Graham Bell, called by
the London Times "the latest Ameri-
can humbug." In March 1876—
after three years of experiment on
a device which could reproduce by
means of electricity the tones of the
human voice — Bell talked into his
machine, and his words, "Mr. Wat-
son, come here; I want you," were
heard around the world. At first
telephones were rented out in pairs
for parties who desired to com-
municate with each other, but in
1878 the first commercial switch-
board was installed in New Haven
with a subscriber list of twenty-one.

ecy which, as we learned, was not quite proved
by subsequent events. And while the Germans im-
pressed the fair's visitors with guns, America showed
exhibits of ores and mining processes, of scientific
techniques for soil conservation, of industrial prod-
ucts, and other of its peaceful achievements.

143

LIFE IN THE COUNTRY: spelling matches— especially in the West— -were popular and
drew large audiences. The age of amusements was still in the future — no motor cars, no
movies, no gramophones yet — the people had to be content with simple pleasures. They played
parlor games, went to lectures, listening to the orations of the great men, read books and
magazines, and enjoyed each other's company. Some of their grandchildren in later years
said that their grandparents lived a rather boring and dull life, that they had few diversions
and not many pleasures. One wonders whether their criticism had validity; one wonders
whether grandfather and grandmother did not have a more purposeful and enjoyable
existence than their fun-seeking grandsons and granddaughters two generations after them.

TRAVELING BECAME EASY

An artist's impression of the
smoking saloon and the parlor
car on a train of the Pennsylvania
Railroad, which operated be-
tween New York and Philadel-
phia. Americans began to move
around the country; they traveled
in trains, though the well-to-do
still preferred a European voyage
to a trip at home. America was
not yet fashionable; Europe was
still the vogue. The "better
classes" still imitated European
customs and European manners.
Mothers of wealthy girls were still
looking for a European prince or
count or baron for their offspring.

144

LIFE IN THE CITY: Christmas shopping in New York. The gulf between rich and poor
was vast. On one side were the wealthy, as pictured in the drawing by an artist of Frank
Leslie's Illustrated Newspaper in 1876, able to buy all the expensive dolls and presents for
their children, while on the other side — peeping through the window — was the poor family
of immigrants who could only look at the "holiday goods of every description." Though the
artist may have overdrawn conditions, generally he was not off the mark. More than
100,000 people in New York alone dwelt in slums; the "poorhouses" were filled with families
who could not make the grade; prisons harbored many a young man who had turned in
despair to crime. Social consciousness had not yet awakened in the minds of the well-to-do.

THE PRODUCE EXCHANGE

of New York. The artist pictured
the excitement in the trading
room when the news came from
Russia that that country had de-
clared war. Wars are always
beneficial to prices of foodstuffs.
With tremendously increasing
crops — in the state of Kansas
alone the corn crops had in-
creased within two decades from
6,000,000 to over 100,000,000
bushels — it became lucrative to
speculate on the Produce Ex-
change. Fortunes were made
as America was expanding its
economy and as the frontier was
pushed farther and farther back.

145

THE

HAYES-TILDEN
ELECTION

THE ELECTORAL COMMISSION, eight Repub-
licans and seven Democrats, gave -the votes of the
three disputed Southern carpetbag states to Hayes.

REPUBLICAN APPROVAL. Senator Conkling, a DEMOCRATIC PROTEST. When the Electoral
prime mover behind the scenes, tells Zachariah Commission gave the votes of Louisiana to Hayes, the
Chandler to disband his "noble army of conspirators." Democrats in the House promptly signed a protest.

"TILDEN OR BLOOD" says the cartoon. But
Tilden, the Democratic candidate, accepted the
verdict of the commission, preferring it to Civil War.

146

ANNOUNCING THE RESULT in the early hours
of March 2, when the president of the Senate revealed
that Hayes received 185 votes and won the election.

MIDNIGHT, MARCH 3, 1877. President Grant
and members of his political family, waiting at the
Capitol in Washington to sign the last bills of the

outgoing administration. Standing in front, the second
on the left, is Secretary of State Hamilton Fish, by far
the most outstanding man in Grant's Cabinet.

By midnight of election day, Rutherford Hayes,
the Republican candidate, went to bed in the belief
that he had lost the election. But during the night the
chairman of the Republican congressional committee,
alerted by the managing editor of the New York
Times, wired to the party heads in the three carpetbag
states of Louisiana, South Carolina, and Florida:
"Hayes is elected if we have carried South Carolina,
Florida, and Louisiana. Can you hold your state?"

Counting Louisiana and South Carolina for Hayes,
the Times gave in its morning edition 184 electoral
votes for Tilden and 181 for Hayes, leaving the four
Florida votes in doubt. With 185 votes constituting
the majority, Tilden needed only one more vote to
become President. But if the Republicans could
secure the four Florida votes, Hayes would have the
185 votes. The struggle for this extra vote kept the
country in a state of excitement for weeks to come.
Republicans and Democrats fought for it with great
vehemence. Not being able to agree, Congress
formed a special commission which gave the votes to
Hayes. Thus, the Republican Hayes became President.

147

THE BENEFICIAL RESULT of the disputed Hayes-Tilden election was the withdrawal
of federal troops from Louisiana and South Carolina, the last two carpetbag states. Florida,
whose returns were disputed as well, was no longer counted as a carpetbag state; eight weeks
before the new President's inauguration, that state had installed a Democratic governor and
taken its rightful place with the sister states.

It was said that the Democrats accepted the verdict of the Electoral Commission only
after they were promised by the Republicans that the troops would be withdrawn from the
two remaining Southern states if they would accept Hayes's presidency. Rutherford B. Hayes,
whom the opposition press from that day on branded as "Rutherfraud" B. Hayes, denied that
he had any part in the bargain, and it is probable that he hadn't even heard of it. Still, the
fact remains that not long after assuming office he ordered the withdrawal of the military
from the South. With this, the era of Radical Reconstruction — lasting twelve ignominious
years — came to an end.

In the above cartoon C. S. Reinhart, a cartoonist for Harper's Weekly, indulged in some
wishful thinking. He pictures the Democratic party as an old, wailing woman, lamenting
the fact that the Republican President had stolen her child — the South. On the right of the
drawing, the figure of Columbia thanks Hayes: "Oh, bless you, sir! You've brought us all
together again."

In reality the situation turned out to be exactly contrary to this Republican daydream.
The Republicans had not captured the South— far from it. The withdrawal of the federal
troops resulted in the emergence of the South as the bulwark of the Democratic party from
that time on. For decades afterward, up to the present, the "Solid South" was in the Demo-
cratic column, sending Democratic senators and Democratic representatives to Washington.

148

A THOMAS NAST CARTOON ON
THE REPUBLICAN VICTORY

H E R F

'LIES - , , /
N3MI.' , HL ' /

DEMOCRATIC

8UOH VICTORY, AKD I AM WDONB."-Pmm».

CHAPTER XII

COLLEGE DAYS IN CAMBRIDGE

Freshman Theodore Roosevelt was not like other Harvard boys. In the
Harvard of the seventies one had to be orthodox in dress, mannerism, and out-
look; one had to walk a certain way, one had to speak in a certain manner.
Theodore did not conform to such patterns. A classmate of his recalled that at
a time when "it was not considered good form to move at more than a walk,
Roosevelt was always running." When all others followed the prevailing fash-
ion of marked indifference, he seemed in a perpetual state of excitement. He
interrupted professors with questions and critical observations during lectures.
He read books, not only for examinations but for knowledge.

He was thought queer, "a good deal of a joke." He did not smoke or drink,
and he was proud of the fact that at his dining table "no less than seven do
not smoke and four drink nothing stronger than beer." And to top all this non-
conformity he taught Sunday school at the Cambridge Episcopal Church. He
kept these Sunday-school classes until the rector discovered that he was a
Presbyterian. When told that if he wished to retain his post he must join the
Episcopal Church, Theodore refused. "I told the clergyman I thought him
rather narrow-minded; especially as I had had my class for three years and a
half," but the rector was adamant and so the teaching had to be given up.

Harvard in 1876 had 821 students. Classrooms and dormitories were con-
fined to the ivy-walled enclosure — the Yard. The college, though at the same
location as today, appeared to be much farther from Boston, accessible by
rough-riding and uncomfortable horsecars. And while the area around it was
growing up rapidly, Cambridge still retained a stiff and somewhat stultifying
moral atmosphere.

Theodore was astonished "how few fellows have come here with any idea of
getting an education." He did well in his studies, though he was not outstand-
ing by any means. He had to work hard. His selection of courses was conven-
tional, with science and languages predominant.

His style was not distinguished. Thomas Perry, his instructor, recalled
that his "writing was to the point, but did not have the air of cultivation."

Academically, the greatest disappointment was the manner of teaching
natural history. During his freshman and sophomore years he had fully in-
tended to make his career as a naturalist, but by the time of his graduation he
had abandoned the plan. The reason for this change, as he later explained, was
that Harvard, like most other colleges, "utterly ignored the possibilities of the
faunal naturalist, the outdoor naturalist and observer of nature. They treated
biology as purely a science of the laboratory and the microscope ..." 151

THEODORE, THE BOXER.
A HARVARD PHOTOGRAPH

Before the dream was abandoned, Theodore had added considerably to his
field knowledge of eastern American fauna. As a freshman he had found
a fellow nature lover in Henry Davis Minot, a classmate who lived just outside
Boston in West Roxbury. He and Minot made collecting excursions through
the Massachusetts countryside, and in the summer of 1877 they journeyed to-
gether to the Adirondacks for further field studies. The result of this trip was
the publication (at the young naturalists' expense) of a pamphlet entitled The
Summer Birds of the Adirondacks in Franklin County.

Before he left Harvard, Theodore was working on a second publication — a
very different one, reflecting the marked change in his interests. The War of
1812, he decided, had never been adequately treated by historians, and so he
decided to make up the deficiency himself. The book that resulted was later
published, but only two chapters were completed before Theodore's gradua-
tion. "Those chapters," he later commented, "were so dry that they would
have made a dictionary seem light reading by comparison."

If Harvard discouraged his interest in natural history, it did not have a simi-
lar effect on his athletic interests. By the middle of his freshman year he was
writing his family that he sparred daily with the boxing master at the college
gymnasium, and the following year he was entertaining hopes of winning the
undergraduate lightweight championship. He entered the competition, but,
after an initial victory, was defeated by a superior contestant who, according
to a brief item on the sporting page of the New York Times, spent most of the
match "punishing Roosevelt severely." The same newspaper item described
the competition as "sparring bouts" — a designation that brought a prompt
and indignant rejoinder from The Harvard Advocate, of which young Roosevelt
was an editor. The Times, complained the student publication, had apparently
not understood that the competition consisted solely of "friendly encounters
between gentlemen."

Outside of boxing, Theodore was not notably active in Harvard athletics,
although he participated occasionally in wrestling matches and track events.

Athletics then as now formed a principal subject of undergraduate conver-
sation, however, and it is interesting to note that Theodore found this over-
emphasis distasteful, despite his enthusiasm for the strenuous life. Shortly after
the start of his sophomors year he wrote to his sister: "My respect for the
qualities of my classmates has much increased lately, as they now no longer
seem to think it necessary to confine their conversation exclusively to athletic
subjects. I was especially struck by this the other night, when, after a couple
of hours spent in boxing and wrestling with Arthur Hooper and Ralph Ellis,
it was proposed to finish the evening by reading aloud from Tennyson and we
became so interested in 'In Memoriam' that it was past one o'clock when we
separated."

He was always fond of poetry. His sister later recalled how he had sent her,

shortly after the close of his freshman year, Swinburne's poem The Forsaken

Garden, which he had copied from memory while on a hunting trip in the

152 Maine woods. He enjoyed reciting Swinburne and Edgar Allan Poe, whose

poems he was given to chanting "in a strange, rather weird, monotonous tone,"
although he could never really convert his college friends to love his recitations.

On the whole, the four years at Cambridge were four pleasant years for
Theodore. It was a gay and social life with dances and parties, with sleigh rides,
and invitations to the best Boston homes. He grew more fastidious in his at-
tire, more fashionable in his likes and dislikes. The lyrics of a song in one of
the undergraduate musical shows described him as "awful smart, with waxed
moustache and hair in curls."

While he was at Harvard two great personal events stand out: one was his
father's death in his sophomore year, the other his engagement to Alice Hath-
away Lee in the senior year.

He always loved his family, and he admired his father. Shortly after his ar-
rival at Cambridge he wrote to him: "I do not think there is a fellow in col-
lege who has a family that love him as much as you all do me." And in
another letter he said that it was "perfectly wonderful, in looking back over
my eighteen years of existence, to see how I have literally never spent an
unhappy day unless by my own fault, and I am sure that there is no one who
has a father who is also his best and most intimate friend, as you are mine."

Thus, when his father died in February 1878, Theodore's whole world
seemed to crash. He gave himself to grief — as to everything — with great
abandon. "It is impossible to tell in words how terribly I miss him," he wrote
in his diary. "Every event of my life is bound up with him; he was as pure and
unselfish as he was wise and good." A month after the funeral his gloom was
no less. "Have been thinking over the many, many lovely memories I have of
him; had another square breakdown." Throughout his life he preserved the
letters that his father had written to him. They were his "talisman against evil."

Slowly, very slowly, he regained his composure. And only when "Sunshine"
came into his life was his recovery complete. "Sunshine" was the nickname of
Alice Hathaway Lee, a cousin of his classmate Richard Saltonstall. Theodore
fell in love with her almost instantly — it was his first love. Like all lovers, he
was convinced that his was the only real emotion in the whole universe. He
pursued Alice, he spent every free minute with her, he suffered over her
caprices, endured tormenting and sleepless nights; and when she made him
happy, he was ecstatic in his happiness. "I have been in love with her for
nearly two years now, and have made everything subordinate to winning
her . . ." he wrote. At long last Alice accepted his proposal.

It was only a year earlier that he had noted in his diary: "Thank Heaven,
I am at least perfectly pure," and he noted with satisfaction that if he ever got
engaged, he could tell his fiancee "everything I have ever done." Now he had
a fiancee. "Truly these are the golden years of my life," he exclaimed. "My
cup of happiness is almost too full." With Alice "to love me, life will always
seem laughing and loving."

They were married on his twenty-second birthday. Theodore entered in his
diary: "She made an ideally beautiful bride, and it was a lovely wedding.
Our intense happiness is too sacred to be written about." 153

HARVARD COLLEGE.

CERTIFICATE OF ADMISSION.

£t*4*

J,, rfft-n w+£l~~ U admitted to the FaMHMAN Qua hi Harvard
College, but cw becone • candidate for a degree only on condition of pawing • tatiifcctor

tion in the Mwdiei MOMd btlow.

nti-Ired abmr will lie in

A ttiidcnt who l.u.

n nuy obtain its rwnoral, within tfw y«w dbr

hU *trtrw%c«, % ocdkmc« of Colter* work In the tp*cl.l MbJKt in which he WM cnndlUonid. C«K
dWoM not w rmovwi can be nude up only «t the befinning of MHM MbMqumt «e«dMik yMtr, at tfw
tnnimiiMiHon for MhniMinn, or at weh ^Mcial txamiiMtioiu M may be authoriMd by DM Faculty.

CERTIFICATE OF ADMISSION. On July 3,
1876, Theodore Roosevelt was admitted to Harvard
College as one of the 246 members of the incoming
freshman class. "I thoroughly enjoyed Harvard," he
wrote later, "and I am sure it did me good, but only
in the general effect, for there was very little in my
actual studies which helped me in after life."

WHERE HE STAYED WHILE IN HARVARD.

For four years Theodore's address was 16 Winthrop
Street, on the corner of Holyoke Street, only two short
blocks from Harvard Square. His room with four
windows was on the second floor of the building.

THE EIGHTEEN- YEAR-OLD FRESHMAN

sports a fashionable beard. "When I entered college,
I was devoted to out-of-doors natural history, and
my ambition was to be a scientific man of the Audu-
bon, or Wilson, or Baird, or Coues type," wrote
Roosevelt. "My father had from the earliest days in-
stilled into me the knowledge that I was to work."

STUDENT QUARTERS AT HARVARD in the

seventies. Theodore's class had many young men who
later became prominent in public life. Among them
were William Bushnell Hart, the historian, and
Robert Bacon, Secretary of State under Roosevelt.

154

*4&£- to**/}**

«S*4~x4^
\*

. S

*2L-.^~

4-t+4±ri&

A LETTER TO HIS SISTER soon after he arrived at Harvard. Theodore thanks Bamie
for her efforts to fit out his room in such exquisite taste. "Ever since I came here I have
been wondering what I should have done, if you had not fitted up my room for me. The
curtains, carpet, furniture — in short everything is really beautiful; I have never seen prettier
or more tasteful wall paper. When I get my pictures and books, I do not think there will
be a room in College more handsome or comfortable."

As time passed, he livened up his quarters with decorations of his own. "It was a veritable
museum," remembered a classmate of Theodore, "with stuffed animals and mounted birds
perched on desk and table; and here and there a pair of antlers looked down from the wall
to tell of their owner's prowess in the Adirondacks or in Maine." On one side of the room
stood a homemade cage which housed — despite the landlady's misgivings — a transient
population of live snakes and turtles.

His schedule was an arduous one, though he had no complaints about it. He usually rose
at 7:15, went to chapel at 7:45, had his breakfast at 8. From 9 to 12 and from 2:30 to 3:30
he attended classes. Between lunch and classes he studied; after classes he exercised, stren-
uously attempting to improve his health and his muscles: he lifted weights, jumped rope,
he boxed, he rowed, he rode, and in the winter months he skated. He took dinner at 6, and
after dinner until bedtime, which usually was about eleven o'clock, he studied and read.
Another of his schoolmates recalled that he could read in the noisiest room, "oblivious to
all that was going on around him."

To the undergraduate Theodore seemed queer, eccentric, "a good deal of a joke," ever in
a hurry, rushing from one classroom to the other. Though his father gave him the advice
"that, if I was not going to earn money, I must even things up by not spending it," he seemed
to have resources enough to drive a dogcart and to indulge in expensive pastimes.

At Harvard, Theodore Roosevelt was somewhat of a snob and somewhat of a prude. "I
most sincerely wish I knew something about the antecedents of my friends," he wrote. "On
this very account I have avoided being very intimate with the New York fellows." As an
example of his righteousness is his entry in his journal after he learned that one of his cousins
had married a French actress: "He is a disgrace to the family— the vulgar brute." And
the virtuous lad gave praise to the Almighty: "Thank Heaven, I am at least perfectly pure,"

155

THE EDITORS OF THE ADVOCATE. Roosevelt
was one of the editors of The Harvard Advocate, the
monthly literary magazine of the undergraduates.

THE "BIG SIX/' classmates of Theodore in Har-
vard. Standing: Richard Saltonstall, whose cousin
Roosevelt was to marry, Minot Weld, and Theodore.
Seated: John Tebbets, H. B. Chapin, and Harry Shaw.

THE O. K. CLUB was another of Roosevelt's affili-
ations while at Cambridge. Theodore liked com-
pany, he liked good fellowship; he was a great joiner.

HIS AFFILIATIONS AT HARVARD. The Por-
cellian Club, one of the most exclusive clubs on the
campus, offered a membership to Theodore and he
accepted. It was a great honor, as the Porcellian
took in only eight men from each of the upper
classes.

He also belonged to the Institute of 1770 from his

156

sophomore year on, and was a member of the Hasty
Pudding Club. In his senior year he was president
of Alpha Delta Phi, treasurer of the O.K. Club, sec-
retary of the Hasty Pudding Club, vice-president of
the Natural History Society, an editor of the under-
graduate magazine The Harvard Advocate, an honorary
member of the glee club, and to top all these honors

he was chosen by his classmates as a member of the
Class Committee. Because of his good marks he be-
longed to Phi Beta Kappa, which was presided over
at Harvard by no less a man than Oliver Wendell
Holmes. The early coolness of his classmates had dis-
appeared; before his last term had ended, Theodore
was one of the best-liked fellows at Harvard College.

157

1870--77.

HARVARD COLLEGE.

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tb HMTIWT 111.
At Iliiroiir IV,

ATUBAI, HllTOIT V

?nt« AITI 11
Five A«i III

HIS MARKS IN 1876-77. Roosevelt's best subject
was German, in which he had 92 per cent, his
worst was Greek, with a score of only 58 per cent.

HIS MARKS IN 1877-78. In his sophomore year
he received 96 per cent in German, 94 per cent in
rhetoric, but, strangely, only 51 per cent in French.

T.R. AS A FRESHMAN

When he entered Harvard in the fall of 1876 he was
one of 246 freshmen. His courses for the first year
were all prescribed: Latin, Greek, advanced mathe-
matics, chemistry, and physics. Learning did not
come easily to him; he had to work hard, particu-
larly in Greek and mathematics. "I do not seem to
make headway at all in this," he complained to his
father. His freshman year was uneventful; he made
acquaintances and friends, he felt his way./

In his sophomore year he found his stride. Now
Harvard for him was "home." In that year he chose
German, French, comparative anatomy, and ele-
mentary botany besides the prescribed rhetoric and
history.

It was during his second year in college — on Feb-
ruary 10, 1878 — that his father died. Theodore, who
admired and worshiped him, was stricken with grief.
"I have lost the only human being to whom I told
everything, never failing to get loving advice and sweet
sympathy in return." He solemnly vowed that "With
the help of my God I will try to lead such a life as
he would have wished." He felt it his duty "to
study well and live like a brave Christian gentleman,"
so he could be worthy of his father's memory.

158

1878-79.

HARVARD COLLEGE

II) tlte regulation* of the Family I am .lintetad to print, at the entof earh Academic \ ear.
tto nam* of all HudMa «ho have attain*! Mvwty.Sra prr «<ni of h<> maximum mark In «uj
eh-cthe itudy, or Pffvnt* per cent lu any pmcritod rtudy, ami to «cml ropy of Ihu piibluMti<n>
to lh* falhvr or other guardian of <iirh *tiutait. A lUt of tto mrmUW the JflH/W CLA«* of
IBTM-71 who attained itow porociilagei in any itady will to fouud on th«f«llo«inf page*.

The MudiM parmed ky £/*' % tm&V*&> « which hp did not attum

thmv pvretntagi.*, will to f»and nmotitf thow toluw with the p^ren.l*^ amluod by him in tacli

C3T Hit per etat on tk* woiL of the Jaaior y«ar it &£*is£- w\Mtjr. Ct**\ *W 8 ? 1

C J.WHITK,

Vtti MM. Hnmmr II

1870-80.
IIARVAUD COLLEGE.

In acninlunrr with llu> rrgwlationa of tto Faculty, I tonwith fttt« the num.* of ll.o-o ««<le»t«
who hat* aitaiued (cvrnty per emt of the manimum mark in any utmly in llw aradomki )oar I8TV-MI.

Thv itiidiv* parautd by &? VW rv%£4*&££'' in which to did not allnni

w«ent> per cent, will to fimnd among UK*C tolow with tto pemmUg* MiaiiMd by him in each.

C. J. WHITE,

Ayfcrrvrr/M. Ktrutty

fi«H.li VIII .

(turn IX
«»Km il'n.Miiu.

IT 111 rg

VI..
MlTHIHAlK* X. .

PavtiinU . ' .
PNTMM III ...

CMIHIMIf II. ..

CI»«I>TIIT Ml

tL Ill.Tt.ll | .
,1 lll,T.,«, II .

HIS MARKS IN 1878-79. Natural history was his
best subject in his junior year, with 97 and 92 per
cent. In other subjects he averaged 87 per cent.

HIS MARKS IN 1879-80. Again he excelled in
natural history. In political economy he had 78 per
cent, in Italian 70 per cent, in forensics 65 per cent.

T.R. AS A SENIOR

His whiskers had been shaved off, making him look
"like a dissolute Democrat of the Fourth Ward,"
with "an expression of grim misery." Anyhow, that
is how he felt about it.

The last two years in Harvard were gayer and
easier than the first two. Theodore's diaries and let-
ters are full of notations about lovely dinners and
theater parties, Sunday drives and dancing classes.
"By Jove," he wrote after a hunting trip to Maine,
"it sometimes seems as if I were having too happy a
time to have it last. I enjoy every moment I live,
almost."

On his vacations he either went to Maine or to
the Middle West, hunting and enjoying the open air.
But while at college he was busy with his studies, his
clubs, his natural history specimens, and most of all
with his love for Alice Lee.

In his junior year he had, besides English and ele-
mentary philosophy, political economy, Italian
literature, geography, and zoology. In his senior year
he took geology, advanced zoology, Italian, and a
course in English composition.

He graduated twenty -first in a class of 161, the
same rank as Ulysses S. Grant's at West Point.

159

THEODORE

For Theodore Roosevelt, girls whom he was fond
of were "sweet and pretty." This, too, was his first
impression of Alice Lee, a cousin of his Harvard
classmate Richard Saltonstall. A day after he met
her, he noted in his diary that she was "a very sweet,
pretty girl." The date of the entry was October 18,
1878. But a year and some months later — on Janu-
ary 30, 1880— he confessed to the same diary: "I
have been pretty nearly crazy over my wayward,
wilful darling." Thus Alice had grown from a "pretty
girl" to a "wilful darling."

Theodore was in love, in love for the first time in
his life. He saw Alice whenever he could. He went
to dances with her, played tennis with her, they
were at parties together and at outings in the coun-
try. He was eagerly, relentlessly, passionately pur-
suing the "one all absorbing object" — Alice Lee.
Pointing to her one day, he said to a friend: "See

LIFE IN MAINE WAS "BULLY." He went there
just before his junior year at Harvard, and he fell
in love with the simple life of the people and the
beauty of the woods. At Island Falls he formed a
friendship with Will Sewall, a lumberman and a
hunter, a friendship lasting till the end of his life.

-Co

ANNOUNCING HIS ENGAGEMENT to

Alice on February 13, 1880, to his friend
Henry Minot, and telling him that he
should "not speak of it till Monday."

160

IN LOVE

that girl? I am going to marry her. She won't have
me but I am going to have her."

Tormented by his "sweet love," he told his diary
that when he was alone with her he could "hardly
stay a moment without holding her in my arms or
kissing her; she is such a laughing, pretty little
witch." She was "always present" in his mind: "Not
an hour has passed that I have not thought of her."
The months before Alice Lee accepted his proposal
were months of torture. "Night after night I have^
not even gone to bed," Theodore wrote in his
diary. Then at last — it was at the beginning of 1880
— Alice, "my own sweet, pretty darling consented"
to become Mrs. Theodore Roosevelt. "How she, so
pure and sweet and beautiful can think of marrying
me I can not understand, but I praise and thank
God it is so." With her to love him, "life will always
seem laughing and loving."

% /

A THESIS while Theodore was at Harvard
sets forth his view that "in the abstract I
think there can be no question that women
should have equal rights with men. ..."

ALICE LEE, the girl with whom Theodore fell in
love, was five feet seven inches tall, slender, with a
piquant nose and gay temperament. She was the
daughter of George Cabot Lee and Caroline Haskel,
whose elegant and spacious home was situated
on Chestnut Hill next door to the Saltonstalls.

161

o^or^C +o*r£Z*~m,

-*+*CL&>~

C*A &

A CHATTY LETTER TO HIS SISTER ANNA FROM WILCOX'S FARM IN ILLINOIS

162

ON A HUNTING TRIP in the Middle West with
his brother, Elliott. It was not long before his wed-

It did. He and his brother Elliott were "travelling
on our muscle, and don't give a hang for any man.'

ding that Theodore went West to hunt. To his The boys went as far as Minnesota. Theodore's bag
mother he wrote that the trip would build him up. on the last trip alone was 203 animals, Elliott's 201.

163

C^^C S®C iFfl^mfijfljJB IMP ^^BtHftunrafriCT^irpTroi ^VflAfl^MfffffflfT^
^sc^*St^s.-rMffat.'ss>#i#rt<4<MZ.'/Metru>!n47 ^Mt/AdidjHttutj

ttaaaf.

HIS HARVARD DIPLOMA. On June 30, 1880,
Theodore Roosevelt, by grace of Harvard College,
became a Bachelor of Arts. In summing up his four
years as a college student he wrote: "I have certainly
lived like a prince. ... I have had just as much
money as I could spend. ... I have kept a good

horse and cart; I have had half a dozen good and
true friends ... a lovely home; I have had but little
work, only enough to give me an occupation, and
to crown all infinitely above everything else put
together — I have won the sweetest of girls for my
wife. No man ever had so pleasant a college course."

>'*'•' •

;:;t;;

There was a fashionable wedding

at the First Parish Church, on Wednes-
day of this week, the contracting par-
ties being Miss Alice H.t daughter of
George C. Lee, Esq., of Chestnut Hill,
and Mr. Theodore Roosevelt, of New
York. The Rev. J. A. Buckingham
performed the ceremony. A reception
was held at the residence of the bride's
parents in the evening,

&$s

•,«.,, ,. • .. :mmm

tt&ti.^XM

HE MARRIED on his twenty-sec-
ond birthday, October 27, 1880, the
nineteen-year-old Alice H. Lee, of
a prominent Boston family. Accord-
ing to the local newspaper it was
"a fashionable wedding" in the
Brookline Unitarian Church with
Rev. J. A. Buckingham officiating.

164

Part 2:
PUBLIC SERVANT

CHAPTER XIII

AMERICA IN THE EIGHTIES

Theodore Roosevelt was graduated from Harvard in the summer of 1880.
He married that same fall and with his "devoted little wife" settled down in
New York, enrolling as a law student at Columbia University.

In that year the population of Manhattan Island was 1,164,673. New York
was a metropolis, with part of Broadway lit with the marvel of the era —
electricity. Two more years and Edison's giant dynamos were to supply elec-
tric current to the blocks between Nassau, Pearl, Spruce, and Wall streets.
Progress was marching. Three more years and Brooklyn Bridge would be
ready to use, as would be the new Metropolitan Opera House. And by 1885
all telegraph, telephone, and cable wires and cables had become such a
hazard to traffic that they had been ordered to be removed from the streets.

New York was a city of contrasts: the rich — like the Vanderbilts and Astors
— lived in palaces with a galaxy of rooms, some of them large enough to hold
a gathering of a thousand people, while families on the lower East Side housed
in a solitary room ten or more human beings.

The decade of the eighties were years of transition. The forces that had been
put in motion by the Civil War and the years after came to a sudden fruition.
In this decade rural, pioneering America changed into an urban, industrial
colossus. The frontier line was gone; one could no longer push forward into
virginal, new lands. The passing of the frontier closed one of the primary escape
valves for our national energy; for want of room to grow on, Americans were
beckoned toward imperialistic adventures overseas.

The mushrooming railroads brought an increasing number of settlers to the
West. Within the eighties the population of Montana, North and South Dakota
quadrupled and quintupled. With the cattlemen fencing in their lands, the
era of the open range and the cattle kings came to an end. J. F. Glidden's barb-
wire fenced in the plains at the rate of some six hundred miles a day.

The network of the railroads connected the principal cities; "Empire
Builder" James J. Hill, who started on a shoestring, extended his Great
Northern system into a vast domain. Americans moved around their country;
as they crossed the plains they no longer had to fear the Indian menace.

Men were needed to build, to work, to till the land. The tidal wave of im-
migrants brought masses of them. During the single decade of the eighties
5,246,613 men and women landed on our shores. Of Wisconsin's population
73 per cent were foreign-born; of Minnesota's, 71 per cent. Agents for the big
industries scoured Europe, luring the workers who were sorely needed in the
rapidly expanding country.

167

The eighties were a dividing line in immigration. Before 1880 immigrants
had come mostly from northern and western Europe and they usually settled
in rural areas. But after the eighties, when cheap land became rare, the new-
comers were forced to try their luck in the cities. Though the immigrants from
northern and western Europe were still predominant, the number of Italians,
Hungarians, Greeks, Poles, Russians, Rumanians — former inhabitants of
eastern and southern Europe — increased many times. In the decade before,
in the seventies, only 145,000 immigrants arrived from southern and
eastern Europe; in the eighties this number jumped to 954,000, only to sky-
rocket in the nineties to 1,914,000. A decade later this number grew to
6,224,000, while in the same period the number of immigrants from northern
and western Europe was only 1,912,000. Many thoughtful citizens worried
about the new type of immigrant — they were fearful that the multitudes
belonging to the Roman Catholic, Greek Orthodox and Jewish faiths would
cause radical changes in the life of America. They questioned whether these
immigrants, many of them with scant knowledge of the English language,
many of them unable to read and write and with no previous experience with
the democratic process, would bring benefits to the United States.

Such rapid changes were bound to bring inequities. For the poor, life was
a grim struggle for survival; for hard-pressed homesteaders on the dry and
lonely plains, for exploited workers in the overcrowded New York tenements,
it was more a chore and a burden than a "pursuit of happiness."

But for the rich it offered unexpected pleasures. With money to spend and
leisure to boot, they began to learn how to enjoy their free time and the many
luxuries their money could buy. Traveling and visiting foreign countries
became a vogue, as did the elaborate homes both in the city and the country,
where lavish entertainments were the order of the day.

America grew at a rapid pace and people grew with it. New inventions
raised the standard of living and made life comfortable. Burroughs' adding
machine, Mergenthaler's linotype machine, McCormick's harvester and
threshing machine, DeLaval's steam turbine and other similar inventions
brought immense changes in their wake.

The urgent needs of the masses created millionaires almost overnight. Car-
negie, Vanderbilt, Rockefeller, Astor, Gould, Fisk — to name only some of the
chosen few — amassed enormous fortunes. They made money in a hurry, more
often than not caring little what happened to the economically weaker in the
process. The wealthy classes had not yet acquired a social conscience — that
was to come later. When it was suggested to William K. Vanderbilt that it
might have been wise to run his railroad for the benefit of the people, he blurted
out: "The public be damned!" And when Jay Gould departed for less lucra-
tive fields, he left $77,000,000 to his children, having raised to the level of a
fine art "the methods of acquiring the control and possession of other people's
property." It took generations before the cumulated fortunes of the robber
barons found their way back to the people in the form of philanthropic grants.

Politically the eighties was a period of small men of small vision, a period

168

of stagnation. Politicians, as usual, were behind the times; they had no com-
prehension of the great forces which welded the nation. Many of them were
bought and dominated by corrupt businessmen, and they sheepishly executed
the orders of their masters.

The Republican party turned into the businessmen's party — the idealism
of their beginnings no more a driving force. Divided into "Stalwarts" and
"Half-Breeds" — one supporting Senator Roscoe Conkling, the other Senator
James G. Blaine — the two factions fought each other, not so much on political
principles, but on how to divide the spoils.

In the 1884 Republican nominating convention in Chicago, Theodore
Roosevelt, after having been elected as assemblyman to the New York Legis-
lature for three consecutive terms, was one of the delegates of his state. There,
allying himself with other young Republicans, he fought against Elaine's
nomination; but when Blaine won, Theodore would not join the "mugwumps"
— those reform-minded Republicans who were to vote for Grover Cleveland,
the Democratic candidate.

"I intend to vote the Republican presidential ticket," he said to an inter-
viewer from the Boston Herald. "While at Chicago, I told Mr. Lodge that such
was my intention; but before announcing it, I wished to have time to think
the whole matter over. A man cannot act both without and within the party;
he can do either, but he cannot possibly do both. Each course has its advan-
tages, and each has its disadvantages, and one cannot take the advantages or
the disadvantages separately. I went in with my eyes open to do what I could do
within the party; I did my best and got beaten; and I propose to stand by the
result."

This was a clear decision — a decision which created many adverse com-
ments. Newspaper writers called Roosevelt a turncoat, a man without char-
acter, and the abuse grew in intensity when he entered the campaign and
made speeches on Elaine's behalf.

But when the election was over and Blaine had lost, Theodore gave his
reasons to his friend Cabot Lodge. "Every now and then," he wrote, "I meet
an Independent who, taking it for granted that you and I were actuated by
selfish motives, points out how much better for ourselves we would have done
to have bolted. I always surprise him by saying that we have always been very
well aware of that fact, and knew perfectly well that we had been effectually
killed as soon as Blaine was nominated. If our consciences would have per-
mitted it, I have not the slightest doubt that by bolting we could have done
an immense amount for ourselves, and would have won a commanding
position — at the cost, perfectly trivial in true mugwump eyes, of black treach-
ery to all our warmest and truest supporters and also at the cost of stultifying
ourselves as regards all of our previous declarations in respect to the Democracy."

Thus spoke the man who twenty-eight years later headed the Progressives
against William Howard Taft, the official candidate of his party. In that
twenty-eight years Roosevelt had learned a great deal, but had also forgotten
some of the maxims he knew at the outset of his political career.

169

THE MARVEL
OF THE ERA

ELECTRICITY IN THE HOMES. In 1882 the
Edison Electric Company opened the first power
plant in New York to supply current for customers.

EDISON IN HIS WORKSHOP, A contemporary
drawing by H. Muhrman of the Wizard of Menlo
Park— title page of Harper's Weekly on August 2, 1879.

THE DURABLE ELECTRIC BULB was born on
October 19, 1879, when Thomas Alva Edison suc-
cessfully demonstrated his incandescent lamp. The
inventor discovered a cheap and durable filament
for the bulb which allowed the lamp to burn con-
tinuously for over forty hours — thus ushering in the
electric age.

At the right of the lamp, Edison drives the gas
from the filament with electric current. His assistant,
Francis Jehl, standing on the bench, fills the Sprengel
pump with mercury. The others in the drawing are
from left to right, John Kruesi, Martin Force, Lud-
wig Boehm, Charles Batchelor (the tall man with the
beard), and Francis R. Upton.

170

.-, . j|t

Edison was a remarkable man. Born in 1847 of
Dutch and Scottish ancestry, he went to public
school for no more than three months. When he was
twelve years old he became a railroad newsboy, sell-
ing newspapers on the trains of the Grand Trunk
Railway. Conceiving the idea of bulletin boards at
the principal stations on his route, he telegraphed
ahead the important news; thus, when he arrived
with his papers he sold them quickly. In the baggage
car of his express train he set and printed the Grand
Trunk Herald. He also put up a chemical laboratory,
which he was forced to discontinue when an explo-
sion set the car afire. About the time he was fifteen
he found employment in Cincinnati as a telegraph

operator of the Western Union Company. Saving
most of his earnings, spending very little on himself,
he invested all he had in technical experiments.
Time after time his efforts brought fruit, proving his
inventive genius. Soon he received a patent for a
duplex telegraph machine by which two messages
could be transmitted on the same wire simultane-
ously. Other successes came. In 1872 he worked out
a quadruplex system of telegraphy ' by which four
messages could be sent at one time on a single wire.
In 1877 he received a patent for his phonograph or
speaking machine. By 1880, when he was only
thirty- two years old his name was a household word,
and his earnings ran as high as $50,000 a year.

171

LIFE IN NEW YORK

WINTER SCENE on New York's Central Avenue
near M'Comb's Dam Bridge at the opening of the
sleighing season. Both young and old enjoyed the fun.

THE SECOND AVENUE ELEVATED opened in
March, 1880, bringing thousands of New Yorkers to
the transfer station at Chatham and Division streets.

IMMIGRANTS LANDING at Castle Gardens. The
flux of immigrants was still holding. As many as 4,000
newcomers were received and dispatched in a day.

THE METROPOLITAN MUSEUM OF ART

was opened to the public on April 1, 1880. It was
one of the great events of the New York social season.

SKATING

"Two dear skates,

With them wonders she

creates,
And with web and woof

she'll weave
Fairy spells you can

not leave."

172

STARVING CHILDREN from the tenements are
taken by officers of the Society for the Prevention of
Cruelty to Children to be given a decent meal.

IN THE ITALIAN QUARTER the Business Men's
Society distributed free ice water "for the encourage-
ment of moderation," eagerly taken by all children.

THE TELEPHONE EXCHANGE of 1880. There
were about 20,000 subscribers in New York City,
paying a monthly rental fee of ten dollars a head.

IRISH DEPOSITORS of the Emigrant Savings
Bank lining up at the windows to withdraw money
which they will send to suffering relatives at home.

ARCHERY

in Central Park. In this
decade the American people
had more leisure and began
to learn how to use it. The
craze was still croquet,
but other sports like lawn
tennis, cycling, and arch-
ery had ardent followers.

173

PROMINENT MEN OF SOCIETY— HALSEY HAIGHT, JOSEPH GRAFTON MINOT, C. STARY

KATE STRONG

THE VANDERBILTS' BALL

Cornelius Vanderbilt, the former
ferryboat operator, always looked at
a penny twice before spending it.
Even on his deathbed, when his
doctor suggested champagne to re-
lieve his discomfort, the old man
groaned: "I can't afford champagne.
A bottle every morning! Oh, I guess
sody water'll do." Beginning to buy
railroads at the age of sixty-eight, he
had increased his fortune of ten
million dollars to more than a hun-
dred millions before he died.

His son and heir, William Henry,
inherited his father's ability to make
money. Within nine years he dou-
bled his legacy of ninety million
dollars.

With the Commodore's passing,
William Henry and his son, William
Kissam, gave up the pretense of
frugality. Thus the architect Richard
Morris Hunt was commissioned to
build a palace on the corner of
Fifty-second Street and Fifth Ave-
nue, which when completed looked
like the Chateau de Blois in France
and cost three million dollars.

Alva Smith, the Alabama-born
wife of William Kissam Vanderbilt,
had set her heart on conquering the
hitherto impregnable fortress of
New York society. When their mag-
nificent building was completed,
she planned a housewarming cos-
tume ball on such a lavish scale as
had never been held before. Ac-

174

CLARK, JOHN LAWRENCE-AS THEY WENT TO THE VANDERBILT BALL ON MARCH 26, 1883

ALVA SMITH VANDERBILT

cording to the New York Times, the
costume problem "disturbed the
sleep and occupied the waking hours
of social butterflies, both male and
female, for over six weeks."

When word reached Mrs. Van-
derbilt that young Caroline Astor
and her friends were rehearsing a
"star quadrille" to be danced at her
ball, she let intimates of Mrs. Astor
know that she could not invite Miss
Astor or her mother because neither
had paid her a call. For years Mrs.
Astor, the arbiter of the social set,
had ignored her; now Alva forced
her to make a decision. When Mrs.
Aster's soul searching was over, she
called for her carriage and, driving
to the Vanderbilt mansion, sent in

her calling card, signifying accept-
ance of the Vanderbilts to the
rarefied ranks of high society. It
must have been the greatest tri-
umph in the life of Alva Vanderbilt.
Overjoyed, she sent a footman to the
Astor residence with the last of
twelve hundred invitations to her
ball.

The ball itself surpassed anything
in living memory. Costing a quarter
of a million dollars, it was the great-
est social event of the age. The
banker Henry Clews compared it
with fetes given by Cleopatra, Louis
XIV, and Alexander the Great, and
asserted that it was "superior to any
of those grand historic displays of
festivity."

175

LIFE IN THE EIGHTIES

An after-dinner scene in the executive mansion in Washington, the cares of the day forgot-
ten. President Hayes and family are listening to Carl Schurz's playing; in the background
John Sherman, Secretary of the Treasury, tests the knowledge of the President's daughter.

A PARTY IN PHILADELPHIA, given in honor of
General Ulysses Grant, who was to depart on his
tour around the world. His host was George W.
Childs, one of the richest men of the Quaker City.

FAN DRILL of young ladies of the Lake Erie Sem-
inary at Painesville on November 18, 1880. On the
right is James A. Garfield, whom the country had
elected to the presidency only a few days before.

176

THE BICYCLE was introduced in the United States in 1877 by a young lawyer of Boston,
and ever since then that city has been the headquarters of cycle enthusiasts. From Bos-
ton the craze for the new vehicle spread to all other large cities except New York, which
showed little interest in it at first. But when, on the first day of January 1880, the
American Institute Fair opened a bicycle rink, New Yorkers, too, became addicted to the fad.

177

"THE CINDERELLA OF THE REPUBLICAN PARTY AND HIS HAUGHTY SISTERS"

A much debated cartoon by Joseph Keppler, showing
Senator Roscoe Conkling, the head of the Stalwarts
(the conservative section of the Republican party),
leading ex-President Grant to the ball, while Cin-
derella Hayes is left at the hearth. The Stalwarts
withheld their support from President Hayes; they
wanted Grant again. The Half-Breeds (the other
faction of the party, opposing the Stalwarts) were
led by Senator James G. Elaine, who desired the
nomination for himself. In the convention the Stal-

warts were solidly behind Grant with their 304 votes,
but Elaine's strength was almost as great. For thirty-
six times the convention balloted, and though Grant
kept ahead in the balloting, he could not clinch the
nomination. To break the deadlock the delegates
were compelled to settle on a compromise candidate
— Senator James A. Garfield from Ohio.
And to please the Stalwart faction, Conkling's hench-
man, Chester A. Arthur, "the gentleman boss" of the
N. Y. Custom House, was given the vice-presidency.

178

JAMES G. ELAINE, the

leader of the Half-Brceds
and Grant's chief rival.
Though accused of unethi-
cal financial conduct, he
had strong support among
the rank and file. Blaine
was a charming man, a
good speaker, with a capti-
vating personality. Nast
lampooned him as a magnet.

REPUBLICAN SEARCH
FOR A CANDIDATE

EX-PRESIDENT GRANT after his triumphal tour
around the world was ready to enter the political
arena, seeking the Republican nomination once
more. He had the unswerving support of the loyal
Stalwarts, but their enthusiasm and their 304 votes
were not enough to secure for him the nomination.

CHAPTER XIV

THE BEGINNING OF HIS
POLITICAL CAREER

After their wedding the young couple spent a short honeymoon at "Tranquil-
lity," the Roosevelt's summer place on Long Island. Theodore was in a
jubilant mood. He confessed to his diary: "It is impossible to describe the
lovely, little teasing ways of my bright, bewitching darling; I can imagine no
picture so pretty as her sweet self, seated behind the tea things in the daintiest
little pink and gray morning dress, while, in my silk jacket and slippers, I sit
at the other end of the table."

The happy fortnight at Tranquillity was all too short. From Oyster Bay
the newlyweds moved to the Roosevelt's New York home at 6 West Fifty-
seventh Street. Theodore was pondering what he should do. He had some
money, but not enough. The $125,000 which he had inherited from his father
gave him a yearly income of $8,000. "I had enough to get bread," he recalled
later. "What I had to do, if I wanted butter and jam, was to provide the butter
and jam but to count their cost as compared with other things. ... As I had
some money I felt my need for more money was to be treated as a secondary
need, and that while it was my business to make more money where I legit-
imately and properly could, yet that it was also my business to treat other
kinds of work as more important than money-making." He decided to enroll
as a student at Columbia Law School, and he continued to work on his study
of The Naval War of 1812.

Not long after he settled in New York, he joined the Twenty-first District
Republican Club because "a young man of my bringing up and convictions
could join only the Republican party." That both his uncle and father-in-law
were good Democrats was brushed aside. By the end of the year he was
a regular attendant of the monthly meetings in Morton Hall, "a large barn-
like room over a saloon" at Fifth Avenue and Fifty-ninth Street. For Theodore
a new world opened its doors — a world of spittoons, of cigar smoke, of coarse
stories told by florid ward heelers, alien and distasteful, yet fascinating. That
the political arena lured him is easy to comprehend. He always tried to
fashion himself after his father, follow his example, and accept public service
as the elder Roosevelt did. Theodore, with his keen moral sense, looked with
contempt on those educated people who "shrink from the struggle and the
inevitable contact with rough politicians."

The following summer — the summer of 1881 — with his future still clouded
in uncertainty, he took his bride to Europe — his third trip abroad and her
first. Although Alice suffered miserably from seasickness on the way over, she
regained her spirits upon landing, and the couple made an idyllic tour across

THE NEW PRESIDENT: 181

JAMES A. GARFIELD

the British Isles and thence to Paris, Venice, the Alps, the Rhineland, and the
Low Countries — "The loveliest trip I have ever had," exclaimed Theodore.
It was — like all Roosevelt trips — a strenuous tour, particularly in Switzerland,
where the young American, challenged by two English climbers who were stay-
ing at the same hotel in Zermatt, made the difficult ascent of the Matterhorn.

When the belated honeymooners returned to New York in September, Theo-
dore expected to resume his law studies, but events at the Twenty-first
District headquarters were conspiring to chart his course in another direction.
Jacob Hess, an affable German who was Republican boss of the district, was
being challenged by a lieutenant named Joseph Murray, an ex-Tammany
Irishman who had taken a liking to young Roosevelt. Although he declined
when first approached, Theodore finally consented to be Murray's candidate
for nomination to the state Assembly. At the nominating caucus, preceded by
some adroit politicking on the part of Murray, he prevailed over the incum-
bent, William Trimble, the choice of Hess and the party regulars.

So Roosevelt, at twenty-three, began a career to which he remained true
till the end of his life. His friends were doubtful whether he had made the right
decision, while his new political associates were downright amused. There is a
story that during the campaign Theodore told an influential German saloon-
keeper on Sixth Avenue that, in his opinion, the liquor license should not be
lowered but raised. "I don't think you pay enough. I thought it would be at
least twice as much," he said with conviction, whereupon the district leaders
hustled him away and advised him to confine his campaigning to "the college
boys and his friends on Fifth Avenue." They said it would be better if he would
stay away from the less fashionable neighborhoods; they themselves would see
that these people cast their votes in the proper way — meaning for the Repub-
lican candidate. Thus Theodore won the election by the handsome margin of
3,490 votes to 1,989 of his Democratic opponent. The New York Evening Post
congratulated the district on electing a man of independent means who
"doesn't need to trim to suit the bosses."

On the first day of January 1882 Theodore Roosevelt set out for Albany to
assume his legislative duties. He wore eyeglasses which dangled on a silk cord,
and he sported an enormous overcoat. His colleagues in the legislature thought
him a dude — "the way he cpmbed his hair, the way he talked — the whole
thing." His high-pitched, squeaky voice seemed out of place in the Assembly
chamber; his accent and his manners seemed so different from those of the
other lawmakers. But when a few weeks later the young assemblyman boldly
introduced a resolution demanding an investigation of Judge Theodore West-
brook of the New York Supreme Court, those who ridiculed him had a rude
awakening. Westbrook, so Roosevelt charged, had joined in a conspiracy to
give Jay Gould and other "stock-jobbers" control of the Manhattan Elevated
Railway Company in a maneuver that ruined many innocent investors. The
bluntly worded resolution was greeted by appalled silence and an immediate
motion to table. By persistence and parliamentary maneuver, however,
Roosevelt brought it to a vote, and the pressure of public opinion forced the

182

Assembly to approve it. As expected, the Judiciary Committee absolved the
judge, but the controversy skyrocketed Roosevelt's reputation as a crusading
young "comer" who was not afraid to take on the wealthiest and most power-
ful citizens of his time.

His Democratic uncle helped him to secure a seat on the Committee
on Cities, where his alertness in detecting venal legislation soon prompted the
New York Herald to call him "a watchdog over New York's treasury."

The bills he introduced during this term were as varied as his interests. The
first one — "to reorganize the local government of the City of New York" by
changing the methods of the election of aldermen — was passed; others like
the bill "to provide for a sufficient supply of pure and wholesome water for
the city of New York," the bill proposing the establishment of a public park
in the Twenty-fourth Ward, or the bill dealing with "the killing and wounding
of pigeons, fowls, birds, and other animals" came to nothing. About his bill to
change the method of electing aldermen, the New York Times said (Feb. 24,
1882) that it was "a very desirable end, the weakening namely, of the power
of the party machine and the protection of the rights of voters." Roosevelt ex-
plained, "In New York, where the nominating power is so largely divorced
from the mass of the voters of the same party, it is peculiarly necessary to have
the machinery of elections easily understood by outsiders, and, moreover, to
enable the people who vote to pass as directly as possible upon the candidates
proposed by the people who nominate. The present system is so complicated
that nine-tenths of the voters do not understand it at all. Out of my six
Republican colleagues among the New York Assemblymen, three did not know
anything about our Aldermanic representation. I question if one in ten of my
constituents is aware of the real working of so called minority representation . . ."

The regular Republicans were sullen; they had no use for Theodore's inde-
pendent spirit. "Old Salt" Alvord, an assemblyman from Syracuse, remarked
bitterly that his party had sixty and one half members in the Assembly, sixty
regular ones and "that damn dude." But the New York Times was of other
opinion. Said the newspaper: "Mr. Roosevelt has a most refreshing habit of
calling men and things by their right names, and in these days of judicial,
ecclesiastical, and journalistic subserviency to the robber barons of the Street
it needs some little courage in any public man to characterize them and their
acts in fitting terms."

And Roosevelt, disregarding the regulars' hostility, poured his venom not
on them, but on the opposition. He said that "over half the Democrats,
including almost all of the City Irish, are vicious, stupid looking scoundrels."
Furthermore — so he went on — "the average Catholic Irishman of the first
generation, as represented in this Assembly, is a low, venal, corrupt and
unintelligent brute." When he made that speech he was twenty-three years old.

His first-term record was good enough to secure his re-election in the fall of
1882 by a two-to-one majority, a great victory, enhanced by the fact that in
that election Grover Cleveland, the Democratic party's gubernatorial candi-
date, carried the Twenty-first District. Back in Albany at the start of the 1883

183

session, the "Young Reformer" was his party's nominee for the post of Speaker
— a singular distinction, although an empty one in a Democratic-controlled
Assembly, which would elect a Democratic Speaker. Nevertheless, the honor
placed Roosevelt at the head of his party. He became known, his name was
frequently mentioned in newspapers, his efforts in the Assembly for a better
government acknowledged. On the very day he made his principal speech of
the canvass for re-election (it was a day after his twenty-fourth birthday) Carl
Schurz, one of the founders of the Republican party, said of Roosevelt that he
was one of the "three almost beardless youths who proved to be the exponents
of the power and honesty of the City of New York," and who in the Assembly,
almost alone, had "stemmed the tide of corruption in that fearful legislative
gathering." Theodore was not less pleased with himself than was Schurz. "I
rose like a rocket," he declared.

In the winter of 1882-83, Theodore and Alice moved from the Roosevelt's
residence to their own apartment at 55 West Forty-fifth Street. Theodore
described his happiness in the new surroundings. "Back again in my own lovely
little home," he once wrote, "with the sweetest and prettiest of all little wives —
my own sunny darling. I can imagine nothing more happy in life than an evening
spent in my cozy little sitting room, before a bright fire of soft coal, my books
all around me, and playing backgammon with my own dainty mistress."

His second term started off well. In close co-operation with the Democratic
governor of the state and in disregard of the patronage-minded organization
men in both parties, he threw himself into the successful fight for a state civil-
service bill. Cartoons pictured him and Grover Cleveland as allies, independent
critics cited him for his willingness to ally himself with Democrats when he
believed the end to be just. He was applauded by his few friends and abused
by his many enemies when he showed strength of character in confessing an
error and reversing himself openly. The issue was a bill reducing from ten cents
to five the fares on Jay Gould's Manhattan Railway. Roosevelt at first supported
the bill in response to a popular clamor against Gould, whom he hated. But
when Governor Cleveland vetoed it on the grounds that it was an unconstitu-
tional violation of the terms of the railway franchise, Roosevelt took the floor
to support him, admitting "with shame" that he had been partly motivated
by "a vindictive spirit toward the infernal thieves and conscienceless swindlers
who have had the elevated railroad in charge" and partly by "the popular
voice of New York." He called Jay Gould and his cohorts "part of that most
dangerous of all dangerous classes, the wealthy criminal class." For this coura-
geous admission of error, Roosevelt was labeled a "weakling" by the New York
Sun, while the Evening Star of Boston called him a communist and a "bogus
reformer" whose career would soon be over.

The criticism Roosevelt received on this issue became even sharper a week
later, when he delivered a bitter speech and resigned from the Committee on
Privileges and Elections after the Assembly denied his friend, Representative
Sprague, a contested seat. He said in a scathing attack on the Democrats: "You
can take the record made by their party now in the House; the shameless

184

partisanship they have displayed; the avidity they have shown for getting con-
trol of even the smallest offices; the way they have endeavored to legislate
Republicans out of office and put their own members in. . . ." Here was the
self-righteous politician to whom everything the opposition attempted was evil,
while he regarded the faults of his own party as only unintentional mistakes.
The New York Observer called him "very silly and sullen and naughty" and
said: "When young Mr. Roosevelt finished his affecting oration, the House
was in tears — of uncontrollable laughter." Roosevelt himself (writing to his
son many years later) admitted: "I came an awful cropper and had to pick
myself up after learning by bitter experience the lesson that I was not all-
important and that I had to take account of many different elements in life.
It took me fully a year before I got back the position I had lost, but I hung
steadily at it and achieved my purpose."

Besides his support of the civil-service reform bill in the 1883 session, he
introduced a bill to control the liquor traffic by raising the license fees, intro-
duced a bill "to provide for the infliction of corporal punishment upon male
persons" (public whipping of any male who "inflicted brutal or unusual pain
or violence upon the person of a female or a male under fourteen years of age"),
and spoke against an appropriation for a Catholic protectory ("no state funds
should be granted to a religious sect").

In September of 1883 he went to the Dakotas on a hunting trip, getting his
first taste of buffalo and of the grandeur of the Bad Lands. On his return he
campaigned for the third term in the Assembly and was once more re-elected
by a thumping majority of 1 ,200. It was a Republican year, with Republicans
recapturing both the House and the Senate. Roosevelt expected to become
the Speaker of the Assembly, but in a wild backstage battle the organization
Republicans and corporate lobbyists joined forces and blocked his bid. As the
New Year dawned — the year of 1884 — the New York Sun prophesied that
"this will not be a happy New Year to the exquisite Mr. Roosevelt."

It was indeed a tragic year — but not because of anything that happened in
the Assembly. On Wednesday, February 13, two telegrams reached him in
Albany: the first told him that Alice had given birth to a daughter; the second,
that his wife's health had taken a turn for the worse. He rushed to New York.
A day later both Alice and his mother were dead.

For Roosevelt the double shock was almost too much to bear. An old friend
wrote on the day of the funeral that "Theodore is in a dazed, stunned state.
He does not know what he says or does."

But four days later he was back in Albany addressing the Assembly on
behalf of a bill to strengthen municipal government in Manhattan. In the fol-
lowing month seven of his nine reform bills passed the Assembly. With admir-
able self-discipline he immersed himself in his work, kept on with his duties.
"I have never believed it did any good to flinch or yield to any blow," he wrote
to a friend, "nor does it lighten the blow to cease from working." So he kept
on with his tasks, pushing himself harder than ever before. "I think I should
go mad if I were not employed."

185

THE COLUMBIA COLLEGE LAW SCHOOL

He gave his age as twenty-two, his college as Har-
vard, his address as 6 West 57th Street in New York
City. In his college years he had pondered what
he should become — hesitating at first between
natural history and the law. Of the legal profession he
thought that it required "less prolonged mental ef-
fort than some others and especially fitted for 'the
weaker sex.'" But by March 1880, not long after
his engagement to Alice, his mind was made up: "I
shall study law next year, and must there do my best
and work hard for my own little wife."

He enrolled in Columbia Law School, then at 8

Great Jones Street, and he used to make the three-
mile distance from his home on 57th Street to the
downtown area on foot.

Roosevelt was probably a good and conscientious
student, though we have no record of the work he
did; he left law school long before his biennial ex-
amination. His heart was not in the work. In his
Autobiography he explained: "If I had been sufficiently
fortunate to come under Professor Thayer, of the
Harvard Law School, it may well be that I would
have realized that the lawyer can do a great work for
justice and against Icgalism. But doubtless chiefly

186

WITH ROOSEVELT'S SIGNATURE ON IT

through my own fault, some of the teaching of the law
books and of the classroom seemed to me to be
against justice."

Theodore felt that the "let the buyer beware"
maxim was wrong, because the seller made a profit
at the expense of the buyer "instead of by bargain
which shall be to the profit of both," and he con-
cluded his observations with this pertinent thought:
"If I had been obliged to earn every cent I spent, I
should have gone wholeheartedly into the business
of making both ends meet, and should have taken
up the law or any other respectable occupation."

NEW YORK IN
THE EIGHTIES

THE COACHING CLUB DEPARTS

LAWN TENNIS AT THE ARMORY

AN OLD-TIME SLEIGH RIDE

187

en*

V o

x<« AC

&€****

iflO

LETTER FROM EUROPE WHILE HE WAS ON A BELATED HONEYMOON

188

AS A MOUNTAIN CLIMBER

IN SWITZERLAND .
IN THE SUMMER OF

Every good eitteen has cause for rejoicing

' that the Republican! of the Tweniy-first Assembly
Distrle* hare united mpon to admirable a eaadi-
date for the Assembly as Mr. TnoDoxxBoosxrzLT.
The district Is not only a large and populous one,

I but itt citizen* include many substantial property
owners who need a representattTe at Albany who
oan appreciate the responsibility of the position.

I Kr. Boourviff need* no introduction to Mis con-
ititnenoy. Hie family has been long and honorably

| cnown aa one of the f oremoct in this City, and Mr.
KoonsYBiff himself is a publio-ipirlted citizen, not
an office-seeker, but one of the men who should bo
•ought for office. Opposed to Mr. BOOSXVXLT Is
Dr. W. VT. STBBW, formerly In charge of the Luna-
tloAtylum on BlaokweU's Island. It Is perhaps
onneoessary to say more of this man. who has been
Indorsed by the Democratic tribes of the district,
.than that he was removed from his position upon-
theTerdiotof a committee of physicians, who re-
carded him as lacking in administrative abil-

lity. The absurdity of making a comparison

I In this instance must be apparent, and it
is obvious that the judgment of the men

f who approved Dr. STBBW'S dismissal for in-
Competency ought to be a fatal objection to his
ilection to the Assembly. The district is natural-
y Republican, and in the present contest, all fao-
*ons having united in Mr. BOOSBTVLT'S nomina-
tion, he may rely upon a handsome majority. He
will furnish to the Assembly a representative from
Ihis City absolutely free from pledges and one
ready at all times to act upon bills affecting the
Municipal Government as a citizen and not simply^

, %s a politician.

CANDIDATE FOR PUBLIC OFFICE. It was a
day after his twenty-fourth birthday that Theodore
Roosevelt entered political life by announcing his
candidacy for the legislature. The New York Times
nodded approval. "Every good citizen has cause for
rejoicing that the Republicans of the Twenty-first
Assembly District have united upon so admirable a
candidate for the Assembly as Mr. Theodore Roose-
velt/' said the first editorial mentioning his name.

t
*

FIFTH AVENUE IN THE EIGHTIES was stud-
ded with comfortable mansions. The northern boun-
dary of the city ran around 59th Street. To the west
New York extended as far as Eighth Avenue, while
on the east, toward the river, the rows of houses were
denser. But even there one could find bucolic scenes
with acres and acres of woodland. On both sides of
Central Park shanty towns grew up as the poor built
crude huts of stolen or discarded material.

Fifth Avenue was Roosevelt's street. He walked it
in summer and winter. He walked to his law school
on Lafayette Place, he walked to the Astor Library
nearby, and he walked to his home on 57th Street.

190

HIS FIRST
POLITICAL CAMPAIGN

Tim Btt'i BipitUeu AiMtiatin,

A special meeting of this Association will be
held at Morton Hall, No. 8 Eaat 59th Street, on
Thursday Evening, November 3d, 1881 , at 8 o'clock,
for the purpose of ratifying the nomination of our
fellow-member, THEODORE ROOSEVELT, for member
of Assembly. A full attendance is earnestly re-
quested.

JAMES S. LEHMAIER.
JOHN R. SANDERSON. Pnndnt.

RATIFICATION MEETING was called by the
Young Men's Republican Association, 21st District.

"I WOULD ESTEEM IT A COMPLIMENT"

MEN WITH MONEY offered Theodore campaign

^M«.-:u..4.: T u u ni *- ti i «i

and celebrated lawyer-diplomat, was one of them.
192

^3 VrcCl* < c«^ci>-t-«x

"THE PEDAGOGUE IS STILL CRITICAL"

Young Mr. Roosevelt of New York. &
young man with eyeglasses. English
whiskers, aud Dundreary drawl in his •]

effort as an orator. He ob-
jected to Mr. HIckman's talk of Republican aid
for the Democrats. When he aaid that it was

waa broken
his auaint
r r-e-M-e-v-e-d."

orftnot,. ." In. fact.

THE TWENTY-THREE- YEAR-OLD assemblyman from New York's
21st District. Theodore won the election with 3,490 votes against William
W. Strew, his Democratic opponent's 1,989, and with this victory his true
profession of politics began. At the time this photograph was taken, Roose-
velt made his maiden speech in the chamber at Albany, which the New York
Sun reported with the few lines above. About a week later— on January 30,
1882 — in Hyde Park, N.Y., a distant cousin of his was born, a boy of whom
the country and the world was to hear more— Franklin Delano Roosevelt.

THE THREE-MONTH-OLD

ffDA \f1C1 T\f n

193

ROOSEVELT'S SURPRISE RESOLUTIONS,

demanding an investigation of Judge Wcstbrook.

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THE

NAVAL WAR OF l8l2

HISTORY OF THE UNITED STATES NAVY

DURING THE LAST WAR WITH

GREAT BRITAIN

THEODORE ROOSEVELT

N'EW YORK

c. P. PUTNAM'S SONS

27 * 2Q WEST 23D STRICT
188?

A PAT ON THE BACK by the Evening Post on
June 3, 1883, praising Roosevelt, who had "accom-
plished more good than any man of his age and
experience has accomplished here in recent years."

HIS FIRST BOOK appeared in 1882, when he was
only twenty-two years old. He began working on The
Naval War of 1812 while he was at Harvard, but the
bulk of the work was done after his marriage to Alice.

THE YEARS IN THE LEGISLATURE

For Theodore Roosevelt the rough-and-tumble of practical politics was a challenge. From
the very first day— January 2, 1882— when he arrived in Albany to assume his legislative
duties, the old-time political hacks looked at him with amazement and amusement. There
was a "perfect dude," complete with Harvard accent, hair parted in the middle, and a pair
of eyeglasses suspended from a black silk cord. A newspaperman mused: "What on earth
will New York send us next?" But soon, very soon, both the politicians and the newspaper-
men realized that the young man must be taken seriously. The "damn dude" boldly
pressed for the investigation of Judge Theodore Westbrook of the New York Supreme
Court, charging the judge with conspiracy to ease the control of the Manhattan Elevated
Railway Company into the hands of Jay Gould and his cohorts. Although the judge was
absolved of the charges, Roosevelt's reputation as a courageous crusader for clean govern-
ment had been established.

In the succeeding fall he was re-elected to the Assembly with a walloping two- to-one

194

iKOPOLITAN MO ILL,
.c-.d^nd Prl«c. St.

ok*

ELECTION EXPENSES as Theodore Roosevelt
wrote them out, listing carefully the sums which
he paid out during his 1882 campaign, when he ran
for re-election to the New York State Assembly.

SECOND PAGE of the election expenditures. His
share of expenses at polls, including boxes, district
captains, watchers, at $10 per district, came to $250.

tl''#Mgjj^
$ ,

^;^LK&3%£

" ' "- Jria ..jj. .... ^.^-..^^

NATIONAL GUARDSMAN— Roosevelt was com-
missioned a second lieutenant in B Company of New
York's Eighth Regiment on August 1, 1882, and was
promoted in the following year to the captaincy.

majority, and such was the respect of his party for him that it named him for the post of
Speaker — an honor, though nothing else — in the Democratic-controlled Assembly.

During his second term "the young reformer" fought valiantly for the state Civil Service
Bill, allying himself with the Democrats. It was during this term that his attitude toward
social legislation underwent a change. Originally Roosevelt had no comprehension of the
workingman's lot. He called a bill which was to limit the working day of streetcar
employees to twelve hours a "purely socialistic" measure. He fought against wage increases
for public employees, and he fought labor leaders who, in his opinion, seemed "the worst
foe of the poor man" because they tried to teach him "that he is a victim of conspiracy and
injustice." But when the labor leader Samuel Gompers persuaded him to visit the crowded
sweatshops in the tenements and see with his own eyes the frightful conditions, he was
shocked by the human degradation, and he supported the bill which forbade cigar making
in New York tenement houses.

On April 16, 1884, a New York Times headline read: "A big day for Roosevelt. Seven of
his reform bills passed by the Assembly." It was one of the crowning achievements of his
three terms as Assemblyman at the legislature in Albany.

195

14. AUce

ral on SatutxJay

avenue
that no

"THERE IS A CURSE ON THIS HOUSE. Mother is dying and Alice is dying too." Thus
spoke Elliott Roosevelt to his brother as Theodore arrived at 6 West 57th Street around
midnight February 13, 1884. Theodore rushed to his wife, who on the previous day had given
birth to their first child — a girl. By three o'clock in the morning Theodore's mother
was dead; Alice, suffering from Bright's disease, died at two o'clock the next afternoon.

ALICE HATHAWAY LEE.

She was born at Chestnut Hill, Massachusetts,
on July 29, 1 86 1 ; I first saw her on October 18,
1878, and loved her as soon as I saw her sweet,
fair young face ; we were betrothed on January
25, 1880, and married on October 27th, of
the same year ; we spent three years of happi-
ness such as rarely comes to man or woman ;
on February 12, 1884, her baby girl was
born ; she kissed it, and seemed perfectly well ;
some hours afterward she, not knowing that
she was in the slightest danger, but thinking
only that she was falling into a sleqp, became
insensible, and died at two o'clock on Thursday
afternoon, February 14, 1884, at 6 West Fifty-
seventh Street, in New York ; she was buried
two days afterward, in Greenwood Cemetery.

She was beautiful in face and form, and
lovlier still in spirit ; as a flower she grew, and
as a fair young flower she died. Her life had

IN MEMORIAL.

been always in the sunshine ; there had never
come to her a single great sorrow ; and none
ever knew her who did not love and revere her
for her bright, sunny temper and her saintly
unselfishness. Fair, pure, and joyous as a
maiden ; loving, tender, and happy as a young
wife; when she had just become a mother,
when her life seemed to be but just begun,
and when the years seemed so bright before
her — then, by a strange and terrible fate, death
came to her.

And when my heart's dearest died, the light
went from my life for ever.

196

"AND WHEN MY HEART'S DEAREST DIED, the light went from my life for ever."
Thus wrote Theodore in his privately printed memorial about his wife, Alice Hathaway Lee
Roosevelt. This sentiment was the last he uttered about her; ever after, he was silent about
his "Sunshine." Never again did he mention the name of Alice, not even to their daughter.

HIS ONLT PHOTOGRAPH

WITH HIS FIRST WIFE

ALICE LEE (ON THE LEFT}

y <**$•!.«.,.•, .• . . .'r-,4 ;,•*••>•.''., ,• • • ••

&J-}^'-j'r.-!k$-s.-"'r?.'.~,
*'.<^,,'; *i-;'x ;; ';. ".>•.. .-. .V%«°. •'-. *"•;
'^••^V:::';;;:.f';"/V;v^ik

^•"S&'V^^

THE FIRST POLITICAL CARTOONS SHOWING ROOSEVELT

The artist Thomas Nast drew the first two Roosevelt cartoons, praising him for his fight
for New York's Civil Service bills and for working closely with the state's Democratic gov-
ernor, Grover Cleveland. Both cartoons appeared in Harper's Weekly in the spring of 1884.
The first shows Roosevelt as "Our New Watchman," with Cleveland observing from the
window; the other is of "Governor Cleveland and Theodore Roosevelt at their good work."

198

ONE OF THE MOST SAVAGE AMERltlAN POLITICAL CARTOONS: GILLAM'S SATIRE ON

James G. Blaine, the Republican candidate, is drawn
as Phryne, the Greek hetaera who was charged with
impiety and was defended by one of her lovers,
securing her acquittal by exhibiting her loveliness.

Elaine's personal honesty was stained by shady
deals. The so-called "Mulligan letters" were strong
indictment that he had been guilty of accepting
gratuities from the Little Rock Railroad of Arkansas.

A prominent candidate in 1876, he had been pre-
sented as "an armed warrior" and as "a plumed
knight." However, in that convention the nomina-
tion went to Rutherford B. Hayes. Four years later
Blaine was again in the race, but lost out after

thirty-six ballots to James A. Garfield. And now in
1884 he was once more the foremost candidate.

This time — in spite of all the opposition from the
reform and liberal groups — he was nominated amidst
cheering that was "fully as deafening as the voice of
Niagara." Roosevelt and his young friends fought
against Blaine in the convention, but their efforts
were doomed to failure.

Blaine was, more than any other politician, typical
of the era. A practical wirepuller, personable, oppor-
tunistic, and a man of loose ethics, editor Godkin
said of him that he "wallowed in spoils like a
rhinoceros in an African pool."

200

*UMXM

»!»!•• M« Win »•* :

ST. PAUL, June 9.-The Hon. Theodore
Boossvslt of New York spent Sunday ia this
city, on his way to the Montana ranch.
Speaking of the issues of the Chicago (tarna-
tion, Mr. Boossrslt said:

" Tjio platform is an admlraitft ons. as strong
aa the party has had sines the old war 'days.
It will gain thousands of votes all over the
country. Boaroslya Republican or Indspead-
ant bat must endorse it .heartily. The Demo-
cratic party must follow, in the main, our
platform or fire up the fight. I did not favor
either Blaine or Arthur. My preference was
Edmund.. Aside from his own ^ ~'

ttflrahs

sra

in,
apf

tion, against Blaine Was possible. Had
I not been so posltjvsly for Edmunds.
I don't know but I would have been
carried away myself by the contagion and
found myself throwing up my hand for Blaine,
Blaine IB the choice of two-thirds of the rank
and file of the party. I shall bolt the nomina-
tion of the Oonvention by no means. I have no
personal objections to Blaine. I think you will
find there will be no fatal disaffection. I be-
lieve Blaine will be elected. Ho will sweep the
West and Ohio and will carry all New England.

I havo been called u reformer, but I

publican.

No one to-d

I do not think it iinpowiblo for BJainn to carry

it. I do not beliovn there will ' ~ '

een calle u reformer, but I nm a e-
n. It ia too early to 8tv*Mk of New York.
to-day can toll how that Hint* will vote.

dnnt candidate.

be an Indepen-

Those who will not vote a Re-

publican ticket will stay away from the polls.
As to the bolt of the New York Tinw. I am in-
clined to think that it would support -either
Cleveland or Dorshoimer if nor ' ' " - -

l>emoomtB."

nominated by the

ROOSEVELT'S INTERVIEW IN ST. PAUL

NEW YORK COMMERCIAL ADV1BTI8BK.

THE REPUBLICAN CANDIDATE IN 1884

After his nomination the revolt against Blaine
spread. Republican newspapers refused their support
(the New York Times was one which left its close Re-
publican affiliation, never to return again); reform
clubs and independent committees "united to rebuke
corrupt men and corrupt methods in politics." And
when the Democrats named Grover Cleveland, the
progressive-minded and reform-conscious candidate,
many Republicans — called "mugwumps" — bolted
their party and lined up behind him.

The votes of these "mugwumps" helped Cleve-
land into the presidency— though he won it by only
a slight margin.

Tboradaj Afternoon, June !!• IBM.

POSITION OF THEODOBB ROOSEVELT,

The Evening Post telegraphed to Theodore
Boose velt oo Tuesday :

"A Bt Paul despatch reports yon as saying
the Republican platform Is admirable ; tiurt you
will not bolt; that you have no personal objec-
tion to Mr. BlaJLne ; that Mr, Blaine will sweep
the West and Ohio, carry an New England, and
yon do not think it impossible to carry New
Vork. Does this represent what you hsye
said ?"

To this was received the following answer
" MEDOKA. Dak., June 12.

" To my knowledge bad no interriew for pub-
lication ; never said anything like what you re-
port. May have said I opposed Blaine for pub-
lic reasons not personal to myself.

•• THEODOBB ROOSEVELT."

ROOSEVELT'S ELABORATION of his interview
did little to change the impression his original words
had created. He would not turn into a "mugwump."

201

THE REPUBLICAN INDEPENDENTS. A biting comment in The Judge. "This is the
third time," reads the caption, "they have marched around. There are about nine of
them, not ninety thousand." This was untrue. There were enough Independents who
were to vote for the Democratic Grover Cleveland to make him President. Theodore
Roosevelt (the second on the ri£ht) is behind the banner of the New York Times and
is followed by Carl Schurz, Henry Ward Beecher, and George W. Curtis, editor of Harper's
Weekly. As one of the leaders of the Independents, Roosevelt worked against Elaine's
nomination in the 1884 convention; but when the nomination became a reality he
did not bolt the party and support Cleveland. "I intend to vote the Republican presiden-
tial ticket," said Roosevelt to a reporter of the Boston Herald. "A man cannot act both with-
out and within the party; he can do either, but he cannot possibly do both." He left the
Chicago convention "full of heat and bitterness." (The World, June 27, 1884.) But when he
reached St. Paul he told a newspaperman that he would support Blaine. To his incredulous
friends Roosevelt explained that he was a Republican and would not vote otherwise. He
even spoke for Blaine in the campaign, saying "The man is not everything; the party is
most of all."

However, the country elected Grover Cleveland, though the change of a mere 600 New
York votes would have given the election to Blaine. The victory left Roosevelt in a political
no man's land. He was distrusted by Republicans and Democrats alike; his future looked bleak.

202

CHAPTER XV

IN THE BAD LANDS

The first time Roosevelt went to the Bad Lands it was to test his hunting
prowess against the vanishing buffalo herd. Traveling the newly completed
Northern Pacific Railroad to Little Missouri, a small frontier town named
after the bordering river, he took on a guide and set up headquarters at the
outpost cabin of Gregor Lang, manager for an absentee owner of a large cattle
herd. Joe Ferris, his guide, at first took a condescending attitude toward the
non-smoking, non-drinking "four-eyed" Eastern tenderfoot, who was given to
exclaiming "By Godfrey!" But when Roosevelt was up every day at the crack
of dawn ready to start the day's hunting, Ferris's attitude toward him changed
to respect. In the evenings, when the hunters returned to the cabin, instead of
piling into his bunk as Ferris did, Roosevelt would stay up into the early
hours talking with the Langs about the wonders of the western country. And
before forty-eight hours had passed, Roosevelt had decided to become a cattle
rancher in the Bad Lands.

The buffalo hunt was successful. Roosevelt — conservationist instincts appar-
ently undisturbed by the bisons* near extinction — finally managed to bring
down a handsome bull, an event which he exuberantly celebrated by doing
an Indian war dance and presenting a hundred dollars to his guide. Shortly
thereafter he headed East. But before he boarded his train, he committed
himself to becoming a partner with William Merrifield and Sylvane Ferris in
the Maltese Cross ranch on the Little Missouri.

A year later — in 1884 — when he returned to the Bad Lands in the wake of
personal tragedy and political disappointment — his wife had died in February,
his fight against Elaine's nomination in the Chicago convention unsuccessful —
he found Little Missouri overshadowed by Medora, a bustling outpost across
the river. Medora, which had grown from four buildings to eighty-four during
his absence, was the handiwork of the Marquis de Mores, a colorful French
adventurer who had married Medora von Hoffman, the daughter of a rich
New York banker, and named the settlement after her. De Mores, who hoped
to expand his fortune by cattle raising, attempted to lord it over the country-
side, picking fights with everyone in sight. His Gallic temperament even
threatened to involve him with Roosevelt in a duel. Fortunately for Theodore,
who was de Mores' inferior in marksmanship, the combat never took place.

Roosevelt now invested an additional $26,000 in cattle, besides the $14,000
to which he had committed himself before, and selected the site for a second
ranch — the Elkhorn — in a more remote location. To build and manage it he

203

brought West the two guides, Bill Sewall and his nephew, Will Dow, of whom
he had grown so fond when he hunted in Maine as a Harvard student. "The
Elkhorn ranch house," he recalled, "was mainly built by Sewall and Dow
who, like most men from the Maine woods, were mighty with the axe. I could
chop fairly well for an amateur, but I could not do one-third the work they
could. One day when we were cutting down the cottonwood trees, to begin
our building operations, 1 heard some one ask Dow what the total cut had
been, and Dow, not realizing that I was within hearing, answered: 'Well, Bill
cut down 53, I cut 49, and the boss he beavered down 17.' Those who have
seen the stump of a tree which has been gnawed down by a beaver will
understand the exact force of the comparison."

During the summer, ranching at Maltese Cross and lumbering at Elkhorn
was interrupted with hunting trips, of which the most ambitious was a seven-
week expedition to the Big Horn Mountains. The round trip covered nearly a
thousand miles, and before the hunt was over, Roosevelt had shot three grizzly
bears and six elk. By now he was a toughened Westerner, regarded with
respect by the same hard-bitten cowhands who had scoffed at his dudish
manners a year earlier. Once, participating in his first roundup, he had caused
delighted guffaws among the cowhands by crying out to one of them, "Hasten
forward quickly there!" — a remark that became a standing joke in the Bad
Lands. But none questioned his endurance or his willingness to carry a full
share of the load. The respect for Roosevelt even approached awe when, badgered
by a gun- wielding tough who addressed him as "Four-eyes" in the lobby of a hotel
outside Medora, he caught the bully off balance and, with three well-placed
punches, deposited him unconscious on the floor. That Roosevelt took deep pride
in his westernization was evidenced in his remarks that "some of our gilded youth"
would be much improved if they were subjected to "a short course of riding
bucking ponies and assisting at the branding of a lot of Texas steers."

Despite the intense attraction the Bad Lands held for him, he could not
shake off the competing attraction of the East. After completing his role in the
unsuccessful Blaine campaign in 1884, he returned to Medora, where he
helped organize the Little Missouri Stock Association to help maintain law and
order in the area and to protect ranchers' land rights. But by Christmas he was
back in New York to spend the holidays with his baby daughter and his sister
Bamie. He remained in the city almost three months, writing his Hunting Trips
of a Ranchman and traveling frequently to Albany to work for a former legisla-
tive colleague, Walter Hubbell, in his campaign for speakership of the
Assembly and to help William M. Evarts win election to the U. S. Senate.

In April 1885 Roosevelt was back again in the Bad Lands, and within a
few weeks the Elkhorn ranch house was finished and occupied. Describing it
later in his Autobiography, Roosevelt said: "After the first year I built on the
Elkhorn ranch a long, low ranch house of hewn logs, with a veranda and with,
in addition to the other rooms, a bedroom for myself, and a sitting-room with
a big fireplace. I got out a rocking chair — I am very fond of rocking chairs —
and enough books to fill two or three shelves, and a rubber bathtub so that I
could get a bath. And then I do not see how any one could have lived more

204

comfortably. We had buffalo robes and bearskins of our own killing. We always
kept the house clean — using the word in a rather large sense. There were at least
two rooms that were always warm, even in the bitterest weather; and we had
plenty to eat." The ranch house overlooked the Little Missouri, and the near-
est neighbor was a dozen miles away. One could not have asked for a more
ideal spot in which to combine the outdoor life with the quiet and solitude
Roosevelt wished for writing.

In June 1885, after a strenuous spring on the ranch, he was in New York
again, working on details relating to the publication of his book Hunting Trips
of a Ranchman (which received uniformly enthusiastic notices) and inspecting
the progress of his house, Sagamore Hill, on Long Island, which was completed
in the fall. He marched in the funeral of General Grant on July 23 and visited
his friend Henry Cabot Lodge in Massachusetts — but by the end of August
he was back at Medora, attending to his duties as president of the Little
Missouri Stockmen's Association and hunting the country north of Elkhorn.
Then, early in September, he headed once more for New York to take a
prominent part in the Republican state convention at Saratoga. Most of the
rest of the year was spent on Long Island, where his social life was far removed
from the rough-and-ready existence in the West. He did, however, find an outlet
for his physical energies in riding with the Meadowbrook hounds, on one
occasion suffering a broken arm and other injuries when his horse missed a
jump and rolled over on top of him. Characteristically, he immediately re-
mounted and resumed the hunt after dismissing the injury as "a mere trifle,"
and that night he went out to dinner in as buoyant spirits as ever.

The following March — March 1886 — Roosevelt was back on his ranch and
added another chapter to his western exploits by capturing Mike Finnigan
and his two cohorts, who had stolen his boat and made off with it down the
river. But his story in the Bad Lands was nearing its end. Most of 1886 he
stayed in the East, preoccupied with other matters, political and romantic. In
the fall of the previous year he had again met his childhood friend Edith
Carow, and he married her in London on December 2, 1886. And while he was
enjoying a European honeymoon, blizzards and bitter freeze-ups destroyed most
of his cattle and helped seal Medora's fate as a cattleman's ghost town. When
he returned to the Bad Lands in the spring of 1887 he went there to liquidate his
holdings. His subsequent visits to the Elkhorn ranch were only as a hunter and
when the last of his remaining cattle were sold off more than a decade later, the
books showed a net loss of some $20,000 for his ranching venture.

The extent to which the West shaped Roosevelt's outlook on life is hard to
overstate. It had vast influence on his development. It brought the successful
culmination of his quest for extraordinary physical stamina. It gave him a pro-
found appreciation of the importance of frontier life and frontier philosophy in
the American character. But the most important lesson was summed up by Roo-
sevelt himself at the turn of the century when he addressed a trainside audience
in Bismarck while campaigning for the vice-presidency. "I had studied a lot
about men and things before I saw you fellows," he said, "but it was only when
I came here that I began to know anything or measure men rightly."

205

THE BAD LANDS

OF
NORTH DAKOTA

THIS WAS MEDORA at the height of its prosperity.
The disastrous winter of 1886 made it a ghost village.

MIDDAY MEAL. A Frederic Remington illustration
for Roosevelt's book Ranch Life and the Hunting Trail.

PLAYING CARDS in the Hotel de Mores. At left:
Sylvane Ferris, one of Roosevelt's ranch managers.

THE LITTLE MISSOURI ABOVE ELKHORN,

"I first reached the Little Missouri on a Northern
Pacific train about three in the morning of a cool
September day in 1883," noted Theodore Roosevelt
in his Autobiography. His main reason for going to the
Bad Lands was to hunt buffalo. He planned on a
short hunting trip, but within a few days he had fallen
deeply in love with the country, and, ready to settle
there, he invested a large sum in a cattle ranch.
The wide-open spaces of the Bad Lands became his
refuge — he returned there time and time again. He
went there to hunt, to write, and to contemplate.
There he "felt as absolutely free as a man could feel."
He enjoyed the feeling of freedom and the feeling of
loneliness. "Nowhere, not even at sea, does a man
feel more lonely than when riding over the far-

206

NEAR THE SITE OF THEODORE ROOSEVELT'S CATTLE RANCH IN THE BAD LANDS

reaching, seemingly never-ending plains; and after a
man has lived a little while on or near them, their
very vastness and loneliness and their melancholy
monotony have a strong fascination for him."
The beauty of the country inspired him to his best
literary efforts. "It was a land of vast silent spaces,"
he wrote, "of lonely rivers, and of plains where
the wild game stared at the passing horseman. It
was a land of scattered ranches, of herds of long-
horned cattle, and of reckless riders who unmoved
looked in the eyes of life or death. In that land we
led a free and hardy life, with horse and with rifle.
We worked under the scorching midsummer sun,
when the wide plains shimmered and wavered in the
heat; and we knew the freezing misery of riding night

guard round the cattle in the late fall round-up. In
the soft springtime the stars were glorious in our eyes
each night before we fell asleep; and in the winter we
rode through blinding blizzards, when the driven
snow-dust burnt our faces. There were monotonous
days, as we guided the trail cattle or the beef herds,
hour after hour, at the slowest of walks; and minutes
of hours teeming with excitement as we stopped stam-
pedes or swam the herds across rivers treacherous with
quicksands or brimmed with running ice. We knew
toil and hardship and hunger and thirst; and we saw
men die violent deaths as they worked among the
horses and cattle, or fought in evil feuds with one an-
other; but we felt the beat of hardy life in our veins,
and ours was the glory of work and the joy of living."

207

THE BUFFALO HUNT

When Roosevelt came to the Bad Lands in 1883 he
had no other reason but to hunt buffalo. As soon as
he arrived he hired the Canadian Joe Ferris as a
guide and could hardly wait to begin the hunt. The
two set out in a buckboard up the Little Missouri,
traveling forty-five miles to the cabin of Gregor Lang,
which Ferris recommended as a base for their expe-
dition. Making the journey in a single day, they
reached the cabin before nightfall. The exhausted
Ferris fell into bed, but Roosevelt was full of vigor
and talked to his newly met hosts until the early
hours of the morning.

The next day it rained, "an impossible day for
hunting," but Roosevelt could not be kept indoors.
Reluctantly, Ferris went out with him. They were
out the entire day looking for buffalo, but had no
luck. This went on for days. Each morning they left
the cabin in the rain; each evening they returned to
the cabin empty-handed.

At night Roosevelt sat up with the Langs, father
and son, talking with them on a wide variety of topics.
Young Lang remembered these talks as long as he
lived. "I learned, for example," he recalled, "that
while the world was a good place to live in, just as
I had been thinking, there were — to shear the frills
— a whole lot of rooting hogs loose in it."

After exhausting days of plodding over the rough
terrain, the hunters came at last upon the tracks of a
buffalo. They followed the animal, but before Roose-
velt could take aim, the buffalo had disappeared.

In the late afternoon of that day the hunters per-
ceived three dark specks on an open plain and stalked
them on foot. The last half mile they made on hands
and knees, Roosevelt's hands getting filled with cactus
spines. Then — hardly more than a hundred yards
away — there stood the buffalo. Roosevelt raised his
rifle, fired at a bull. Dust flew from the animal's
hide, but he dashed off. The hunters raced back to
their horses and in the twilight began tHeir pursuit.
The full moon was rising above the horizon as they
closed in on the wounded animal. "The ground over
which we were running was fearful," Roosevelt de-
scribed the scene later, "being broken into holes
and ditches, separated by hillocks; in the dull light,
and at the speed we were going, no attempt could be
made to guide the horses, and the latter, fagged out
by their exertions, floundered and pitched forward
at every stride, hardly keeping their legs. When up
within twenty feet I fired my rifle, but the darkness,
and especially the violent labored motion of my
pony, made me miss; I tried to get in closer, when
suddenly up went the bull's tail, and, wheeling, he

charged me with lowered horns. My pony, frightened
into momentary activity, spun round and tossed up
his head; I was holding the rifle in both hands, and
the pony's head, striking it, knocked it violently
against my forehead, cutting quite a gash, from
which, heated as I was, the blood poured into my
eyes. Meanwhile the buffalo, passing me, charged my
companion, and followed him as he made off, and, as
the ground was very bad, for some little distance his
lowered head was unpleasantly near the tired pony's
tail. I tried to run in on him again, but my pony
stopped short, dead beat; and by no spurring could I
force him out of a slow trot. My companion jumped
off and took a couple of shots at the buffalo, which
missed in the dim moonlight; and to our unutterable
chagrin the wounded bull labored off and vanished in
the darkness. I made after him on foot, in hopeless
and helpless wrath, until he got out of sight."

Thoroughly worn out, the hunters lay down on
the ground, using their saddles as pillows. At mid-
night a wolf frightened their horses and they ran off,
so the men had to chase them and bring them back.
To make life more miserable, it began to rain; the
rest of the night was spent shivering under wet
blankets. Ferris felt in low spirits, but Roosevelt was
elated. "By Godfrey but this is fun!" he repeated
over and over again.

As dawn broke, Roosevelt saw a buffalo cow in the
driving rain, shot at her, but missed. Later he was
thrown by his pony and slightly hurt. Exhausted and
disappointed, the two hunters returned to the Lang
camp.

By then Roosevelt was under the spell of the Bad
Lands. He wanted to become a ranchman. Lang rec-
ommended two men as managers of the ranch, and
Roosevelt asked him to bring them to the cabin so
he could talk to them.

Next morning they hunted west of the river and
found a perfect specimen of a bison bull. "His glossy
fall coat was in fine trim and shone in the rays of
the sun." Roosevelt, with bated breath, moved close
to the animal; and when he came within fifty yards
of it he fired. The buffalo disappeared over the dtst
of a hill, leaving a blood trail; Roosevelt found his
lifeless body at the bottom of a coulee a short dis-
tance away.

It was a triumphant moment; he had bagged his
buffalo. So elated was he that he burst out in an In-
dian war dance, then embraced Ferris and presented
him with a hundred dollars.

Well satisfied and pleased, Roosevelt took a train
back East, traveling to New York, where his "darling
little wife" was waiting for him.

208

THE "FOUR-E YED" EASTERN TENDERFOOT

on his favorite horse, Manitou. "You would be
amused to see me," wrote Roosevelt from the Bad
Lands to his friend Henry Cabot Lodge back East, "in
my broad sombrero hat, fringed and beaded buckskin

shirt, horse hide chapajaros or riding trousers, and
cowhide boots, with braided bridle and silver spurs."
And in a descriptive letter to his sister he speaks of him-
self as looking "like a regular cowboy dandy, with all
my equipments finished in the most expensive style."

209

COWBOYS IN THE BAD LANDS WHO KNEW THEODORE ROOSEVELT WHEN HE WAS

A photograph taken in 1888 at the H.T. Ranch on
Deep Creek in Slope County, showing the owner
with the hands of the Little Missouri Horse Company
in Dakota Territory. These tough, hard-riding, fun-
loving men ran about five thousand horses yearly in
the Bad Lands and then sold them to streetcar lines,

breweries, and ice companies in the East. Seated,
from left to right: ranch foreman Thomas Franklin
Roberts; Norman Lebo, who cooked and was teams-
ter for Roosevelt on the Big Horn hunting trip;
A. C, Huidekoper, owner of the ranch; "Hell Roaring"
Bill Jones, who drove for Roosevelt; George Wood-

210

A RANCHMAN AT THE LITTLE MISSOURI

man, later manager of Huidekoper's ranch; Old Mc-
Quillen, who "could ketch a horse with his own beard."
Standing is Goose, a Crow Indian, next to Charley
Mason; Charles Vansickle; Herman Hoist, the cook;
Jim Harmon; Dan Fowler; Fred McClain; James
Reynolds, and Schuyler N. Lebo, the son of Norman,

"I HAVE NEVER BEEN IN BETTER HEALTH"

A letter from Little Missouri, written to his elder
sister on his second trip to the Bad Lands, dated
June 17, 1884. Four months earlier Roosevelt had
buried his wife and his mother. Only two weeks be-
fore, his ambition to check James G. Blaine's candi-
dacy in the Chicago Republican convention had
been frustrated. Disappointed, he retired to his ranch,
telling his sister that he is having "a glorious time"
and that he is "well hardened."

"I have never been in better health," he continues,
"than on this trip. I am in the saddle all day long
either taking part in the round-up of the cattle, or
else hunting antelope. I got one the other day; an-
other good head for our famous hall at Leeholm. I
am really attached to my two 'factors/ Ferris and
Merri field; they are very fine men.

"The country is growing on me, more and more;
it has a curious fantastic beauty of its own; and as I
own six or eight horses I have a fresh one every day,
and ride on a lope all day long. How sound I do
sleep at night now! There is not much game how-
ever; the cattle men have crowded it out and only a
few antelope and deer remain. I have shot a few
jackrabbits and curlews, with the rifle; and I also
killed eight rattlesnakes."

211

HE INCREASES HIS HOLDINGS in the Bad Lands. The second contract that Theodore
Roosevelt made with William Merrifield and Sylvanus Ferris, on June 12, 1884, stipulated
that Roosevelt would invest $26,000 to buy an additional thousand head of cattle. This raised
his investment to $40,000, as in a similar agreement the previous autumn he had already
given Merrifield and Ferris $14,000. This ranching venture was financially not rewarding.
When the business was finally wound up his books showed a net loss of $20,292.63.

THE LAND. "This broken coun-
try extends back from the river for
many miles, and has been called
always . . . the 'Bad Lands,' partly
from its dreary and forbidding
aspect and partly from the difficulty
experienced in traveling through it.
... In spite of their look of savage
desolation, the Bad Lands make
good cattle country, for there is
plenty of nourishing grass and ex-
cellent shelter. . . . The cattle keep
close to them in the cold months,
while in the summertime they
wander out on the broad prairies
stretching back of them."

212

ROUNDUP IN BAD LANDS— a snapshot taken by Theodore Roosevelt, showing Sylvane
Ferris, one of his managers at the Maltese Cross Ranch in the early eighties. Roosevelt in
describing the cowboys of the western plains said they were all similar to each other:
"Sinewy, hardy, self-reliant, their life forces them to be both daring and adventurous,
and the passing over their heads of a few years leaves printed on their faces certain
lines which tell of dangers quietly fronted and hardship uncomplainingly endured."

THE CABIN at the Chimney
Butte ranch. Of his brand he said
that it was "always known as
'maltee cross' ... as the general
impression along the Little Mis-
souri was that 'maltese' must be
plural." And of ranch life: "I do
not believe there ever was any life
more attractive to a vigorous
young fellow than life on a cattle
ranch in those days. It was a fine,
healthy life, too; it taught a man
self-reliance, hardihood, and the
value of instant decision — in short,
the virtues that ought to come
from life in the open country."

213

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"A BOYISH AMBITION OF MINE," wrote Roosevelt from Little Missouri to his
sister Anna on June 23, 1 884, was fulfilled when he went on the prairie with horse and
rifle entirely alone. "I wanted to see if I could not do perfectly well without a guide,
and I succeeded beyond my expectations. I shot a couple of antelope and a deer,
and missed a great many more . . . the weather was lovely, and every night I would
lie wrapped up in my blanket looking at the stars till I fell asleep, in the cool air."

THE BAD
LANDS
IN ALL
ITS
GLORY

214

THE ELKHORN RANCH SITE, as shown in the
diorama at the American Museum of Natural History.
The antelopes in the Bad Lands, so Roosevelt wrote,
were "always very conspicuous figures in the land-
scape, for, far from attempting to conceal itself, an
antelope really seems anxious to take up a prominent
position, caring only to be able itself to see its foes."

HIS ARRIVAL in Bad Lands in 1884 was announced
in a small item in the Bad Lands Cowboy. "Theodore
Roosevelt, the young New York reformer," said the
paper, "made us a very pleasant call Monday, in full
cowboy regalia. New York will certainly lose him for
a time at least, as he is perfectly charmed with our free
western life and is now figuring on a trip into the Big
Horn country. He is perfectly non-committal on
politics and the alleged interview with him, published
in the St. Paul Pioneer-Press, speaks more for the
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"TOMORROW MORNING EARLY WE START OUT," he wrote to his sister
Anna on August 1 7, 1884, a day before he set out to hunt on the Big Horns. "How
long I will be gone I can not say; we will go in all nearly a thousand miles. If game is
plenty and my success is good, I may return in six weeks; more probably I shall be out
a couple of months; and if game is so scarce that we have to travel very far to get it,
or if our horses give out or run away, or we get caught by the snow, we may be
out very much longer — till towards Xmas; though I will try to be back to vote."

216

HUNTING ON THE BIG HORN

On his third journey to the Bad Lands, Roosevelt
hunted in the Big Horn Mountains with William
Merrifield as his guide and old Norman Lebo as his
teamster. ("He is a weazened, wiry old fellow, very
garrulous, brought up on the frontier, and a man
who is never put out or disconcerted by any possible
combination of accidents.")

One day they rode through a driving rainstorm
which developed into a regular hurricane of hail and
wind. Roosevelt noted: "The rain lasted all night
and we slept in the wagon, pretty wet and not very
comfortable. Another time a sharp gale of wind and
rain struck us in the middle of the night, as we were
lying out in the open (we have no tent) and we
shivered under our wet blankets till morning."

He shot a number of prairie chickens, sage hens,
and ducks, and a couple of fine bucks, "besides
missing several of the latter that I ought to have
killed." But when he shot two bucks with one bullet

from four hundred yards, he hailed his achievement
as "much the best shot I ever made."

"From morning till night I was on foot, in cool,
bracing air, now moving silently through the vast,
melancholy pine forests, now treading the brink of
high, rocky precipices, always amid the most grand
and beautiful scenery; and always after as noble and
lordly game as is to be found in the Western World."

Then came the great day when he found himself
face to face with a huge creature, nine feet in height,
weighing over twelve hundred pounds — "slowly rising
from his bed among the young spruces"— a grizzly bear.

"As he sank down to his forefeet I had raised the
rifle; his head was slightly down, and when I saw the
top of the white bead fairly between his small, glit-
tering, evil eyes, I pulled the trigger. Half ris-
ing up, the huge beast fell over on his side in the
death throes, the ball having gone into his brain,
striking as fairly between the eyes as if the dis-
tance had been measured by a carpenter's rule."

217

PUBLICITY PHOTOGRAPHS

for Hunting Trips of a Ranchman, Roosevelt's second
book, published by Putnam in 1885. They were posed
in a New York studio. The young author, standing on
imitation grass, is dressed in a buckskin suit made for

HIS BELOVED RANCH AT

Roosevelt's Elkhorn Ranch derived
its name ufrom the fact that on the
ground where we built it were found
the skulls and interlocked antlers of
two wapiti bulls who had perished
from getting their antlers fastened in
battle." He described the place in
vivid colors. "The ranch-house stood
on the brink of a low bluff overlook-
ing the broad, shallow bed of the Lit-
tle Missouri, through which at most
seasons there ran only a trickle of
water, while in times of freshet it was
filled brimful with the boiling, foam-

218

him in the Bad Lands by a Mrs. Maddox, who lived
over on the Deadwood Trail some twenty-five miles
east of Sage Bottom. Keen to get the suit, Roosevelt
rode to her place, making the trip of fifty miles in a sin-
gle day and shooting his first antelope on the way back.

THE LITTLE MISSOURI

ing muddy torrent. There was no
neighbor for ten or fifteen miles on
either side of me. The river twisted
down in long curves between narrow
bottoms bordered by sheer cliff walls,
for the Bad Lands, a chaos of peaks,
plateaus, and ridges, rose abruptly
from the edges of the level, tree-clad,
or grassy, alluvial meadows. In front
of the ranch-house veranda was a row
of cotton wood trees," from which
"came the far-away, melancholy
cooing of mourning doves, and little
owls perched in them ... at night"

219

ASKING BILL SEWALL AND WILMOT DOW to come from Maine to the Bad
Lands as managers of his cattle ranch. But he warns them: "If you are afraid of hard
work and privation, do not come west ... If on the other hand you are willing to work
hard . . . you will be in the receipt of about a thousand dollars for the third year, . . .
and a future as bright as you yourself choose to make it, then come."

220

THREE OLD FRIENDS. Roosevelt induced his two friends from Maine, Will Dow and
Bill Sewall, to follow him to Bad Lands "to start the Elkhorn Ranch lower down the river."

THE BRAND OF ELKHORN

Roosevelt's two friends from Maine were not doing
too well with their cattle ranch in the Bad Lands. By
the beginning of 1885 Sewall was yearning to return
to Maine. He wrote to his brother: "I don't like so
free a country. Where one man has as good a right as
another, nobody really has any right. . . . When feed
gets scarce in one place, they drive their cattle where
it is good without regard to whose range they eat
out. ... I don't like it and never did. I want to con-
trol and manage my own affairs and have a right to
what I do have." Things got worse. When, in the fall,
the cattle had to be sold for less than the cost of rais-
ing, Sewall and Dow asked Roosevelt to release them
and let them go home. Roosevelt acceded, turning the
management of Elkhorn over to William Merrifield.
It proved the right time to pull out. That winter
terrific storms laid sheets of ice over the range, and
— foodless — cattle starved and froze to death. Spring
found the Little Missouri Valley a scene of desolation.

ELKHORN RANCH.

THEODORE ROOSEVELT, Proprietor.

SEAWALL 6 Dow, Manager*.

P. O. address, Lit-
tle Missouri. D. T.

Range, Little Mis-
souri, twenty-five
miles north of rail-
road.

or the re-
verse.
Horse brand,

Ion right or
left should-
er.

221

ONE OF THE MOST GLAMOROUS COUPLES IN THE BAD LANDS

Antoine-Am6dee-Marie- Vincent Manca de Vallombrosa, Marquis de Mores
(standing in the center, and the portrait on the left), and his wife, Medora
von Hoffman (on horseback), the wealthy daughter of a Wall Street banker.
They came to the Little Missouri in 1 883 with dreams of a cattle empire. The
twenty-four-year-old marquis founded a settlement and named it "Medora"
after his wife. Behind his back he was called "the crazy Frenchman."

THE HOME OF THE MARQUIS,

built on a hill with a magnificent
view. A mansion of thirty rooms
staffed by twenty servants, it seemed
out of place in an area where most
people lived in simple cabins. Mar-
quis de Mores and his wife flaunted
every tradition of the old West, living
as if their chiteau were not in the
Bad Lands but in Imperial France.
If guests came, "big goblets of cham-
pagne" were served, visiting Russian
dukes were taken to hunt in fine
coaches, and for traveling the mar-
quis used his own railroad car.

222

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THE MARQUIS' NOTE TO ROOSEVELT

He wrote: "If you are my enemy I want to know
it. I am always on hand as you know and be-
tween gentlemen it is easy to settle matters of
that sort directly." De Mores was upset because
he thought that Joe Ferris, Roosevelt's friend,
"has been instrumental in getting me indicted
by furnishing money to witnesses and hunting
them up." Only a week earlier the marquis had
been indicted by a grand jury for the murder of
Reiley Luffsey and was even put in jail. Bitter
about his experience, he wrote this note a few
days after his imprisonment. And Roosevelt an-
swered: "Most emphatically I am not your en-
emy; if I were you would know it, for I would be
an open one, and would not have asked you to
my house nor gone to yours. As your final words,
however, seem to imply a threat it is due to my-
self to say that the statement is not made
through any fear of possible consequences to
me; I too, as you know, am always on hand,
and ever ready to hold myself accountable in
any way for anything I have said or done."

223

ROOSEVELT CAPTURES THREE THIEVES

One day in the spring of 1886 Roosevelt's men on the
ranch found that their boat had been stolen. They
suspected that the thief was Mike Finnigan, a char-
acter who lived up the river with his two cronies — the
German Pfaffenbach and the half-breed Burnsted.

Roosevelt had strong convictions about thefts. He
wrote: "In any wild country where the power of the
law is little felt or heeded and where everyone has
to rely upon himself for protection, men soon get to
feel that it is in the highest degree unwise to submit
to any wrong without making an immediate and
resolute effort to avenge it upon the wrongdoers, at
no matter what cost of risk or trouble."

Determined to regain his boat, he told Sewall to
build a flat-bottomed scow, and on it he, with his
two managers, poled and drifted down the river be-
tween walls of ice, their faces nipped by the biting
wind. On the third morning they spied the stolen
boat moored against the bank. And not far away

they found Mike Finnigan and his two cohorts; they
were subdued without a fight. "We simply crept
noiselessly up," wrote Roosevelt to his friend Cabot
Lodge in Boston, "and rising when only a few yards
distant covered them with the cocked rifles."

With temperatures below zero, with ice cakes
blocking their way, the return journey turned out to
be more perilous. Roosevelt did not dare to tie his
prisoners because of the danger that their hands
might be frozen. It took six full days to reach one of
the Diamond Ranch camps. Curiously enough,
during these days he read Tolstoi's Anna Karenina
"with more interest than I have any other novel for
I do not know how long."

From the camp the three captives were trans-
ported to Dickinson. When Roosevelt reached his
destination after two sleepless nights he was exhausted.
The local doctor commented: "The average westerner,
of course, would have hanged the thieves out of hand.
But evidently that did not occur to Roosevelt."

224

CHAPTER XVI

THE RETURN OF THE
DEMOCRATS

While Theodore Roosevelt was busy in New York writing his Hunting Trips of
a Ranchman, the political picture of the nation underwent a radical change.

March 4, 1885, marked the advent of the Promised Land for the Democrats,
who had waited nearly three decades for a presidential victory. To many of
the party faithful, the new President appeared as a sort of political messiah
who would mercilessly expose the skulduggery of his Republican predecessors
and would quickly install good Democrats in every federal office. Grover
Cleveland did neither.

To the intense disappointment of Democratic spoilsmen who had hoped for
a clean sweep of federal jobs, Cleveland promptly reaffirmed his promise that
"merit and competency shall be recognized instead of party subserviency."
When one senator complained that the administration should move faster to
advance "the principles of Democracy/' the President merely replied: "I sup-
pose you mean that I should appoint two horse thieves a day instead of one."

For all his dislike of the patronage system, the President was continually
beset by what he termed "the damned everlasting clatter for office," and be-
fore his term was over he alienated many former mugwump supporters by
letting the Democrats take over most of the best federal jobs — notably in the
Post Office Department, where the first assistant postmaster-general, Adlai E.
Stevenson, removed so many postmasters that "Adlai's ax" became a byword.

To keep politics and economics as separate entities — the custom of Pres-
idents since the beginning of the Republic — was becoming increasingly
difficult, as the rise of trusts and monopolies produced mounting social unrest
everywhere. Labor felt that the workingman was gaining nothing from the
new industrialism. New machines had made factory work not only monotonous
but insecure, without shortening the working day. New sources of wealth had
not improved the distribution of money or prevented the cancerous growth of
dismal slums. In most cities a workman's average wage was two dollars to three
dollars for a twelve- to fourteen-hour day. In filthy tenement sweatshops
women and small children worked sixteen hours a day and more. Unemploy-
ment was a constant problem.

Workers began to band together in labor organizations. By the mid-eighties
the Knights of Labor had three quarters of a million members. The American
Federation of Labor, founded in 1886 under the leadership of Samuel Gompers,
was composed of craft unions, more exclusive than democratic, more concerned
with immediate objectives than with long-range political and social reforms.

Halfway through Cleveland's first term these forces of unrest came to a boil,

225

producing twice as many strikes as in any previous years. On the Gould rail-
road system of the Southwest, six thousand miles of track were tied up for many
weeks, with steady fighting between strikers and troops. In Chicago a series
of strikes for an eight-hour day led to a riot in which workers were shot by
the police. A day later, at a Haymarket Square mass meeting, a bomb was
thrown into the midst of police squads trying to break up the gathering, killing
and injuring not only policemen but bystanders. Public indignation ran high,
and even though the bomb thrower was never apprehended, eight anarchists
were tried and found guilty of murder. The opinion of the country turned vio-
lently against "bomb-throwing" labor organizations, and though the Knights of
Labor had no hand in the Haymarket tragedy, it brought about the end of
that union's influence.

The unrest on the farms found less violent forms of expression, but it was
no less deep-seated. Farm prices dropped steadily. Wheat, which sold for
$1.45 a bushel in 1866, was down to 69 cents by 1889.

There were many reasons for the unrest. Machinery and new growing
methods resulted in overproduction and exhaustion of the soil; specialization
destroyed the farmers' old-time self-sufficiency; high tariffs, established by a
government that gave its primary allegiance to manufacturers, kept prices
high; farmers were forced to buy dear but had to sell their products cheap; as
the cost of money went up, they paid as high as 1 0 and even 20 per cent on
mortgages that were generally held by banks and insurance companies in the
East. Between the rising cost of money and falling price of farm produce, it took
twice as much wheat or corn to pay off a mortgage as it had two decades earlier.

Out of these miseries came the Grange, which had been started as a pri-
marily social organization in 1867, and the Farmers' Alliances, which crusaded
for farmers in the 1880s and became the Populist party of the 1890s. Out of
these miseries, too, came innumerable devices for bypassing the middleman,
from farmers' co-operatives (which often were frustrated by hostile banking
interests) to flourishing mail-order enterprises like the one started in 1872 by
Aaron Montgomery Ward. Also out of these farm miseries came the Inter-
state Commerce Act of 1887, perhaps the most important piece of legislation
during President Cleveland's first term.

Behind this legislation w&s a long record of discrimination and mismanage-
ment on the part of the booming railroad industry. In most areas the railroads
enjoyed a complete monopoly, which they abused by charging exorbitant
rates to farmers and other small shippers while giving secret rebates to favored
shippers. In the East a system of secret rebates had given Rockefeller domina-
tion over the oil-refining industry, squeezing out and ruining refiners who would
not sell out on his terms. In the Middle West and West the principal victims of
discriminatory railroad rates were the small farmers, who had no bargaining
power as individuals and no alternative means of transportation. With a few
notable exceptions like James J. Hill, the "empire builder," railroad magnates
tended to regard the farmer as an ignorant peasant who had no business
objecting to whatever rates they chose to charge.

226

But public regulation came, in spite of the enormous political power exer-
cised by the railroads through such devices as outright bribery, political
campaign funds, and the distribution of free passes to the families of politi-
cians, editors, and even judges. It came first, in the depression of the 1870s, in
the form of state legislation (the so-called Granger Laws) designed to police
railroad rate-making. And when these laws were thrown out by the courts on
the grounds that states have no right to regulate interstate commerce, it came
in the form of the Interstate Commerce Act, which prohibited discriminatory
rates, forbade "pooling" arrangements by which competing railroad lines
agreed to avoid competition by keeping their rates high and dividing the profits
among themselves, and required all lines to file their rate schedules with an
Interstate Commerce Commission. In practice the commission found its
directives evaded by slippery railroaders and its powers sniped at by a con-
servative judiciary, but the principle of the public's right to regulate was
nonetheless firmly established.

Although this was the most significant legislation of the first Cleveland
administration, it was not as controversial as either the pension issue or the
tariff question. Since the Civil War, veterans' pensions had been dispensed
with increasing prodigality so that by 1885 more than 65 million dollars a
year was being paid out. President Cleveland began to scrutinize and veto the
hundreds of special pension bills that were passed by Congress each year.

The tariff question had its origin in the Civil War period, when the average
duties rose up to 40 per cent. To Cleveland this seemed evil in that it pushed
up prices, aided the formation of trusts, and contributed to a mounting treasury
surplus which encouraged pension grabs and other governmental extrava-
gances. Thus, the President took the unprecedented step of making tariff
reduction the sole subject of his annual message to Congress in December 1887.
The message created a sensation. Godkin, of the Nation, spoke for reformers
generally in calling it "the most courageous document that has been sent from
the White House since the Civil War." Republicans of more orthodox stripe,
like Congressman William McKinley of Ohio, grimly pictured it as a body
blow to every American manufacturer. "Let England take care of herself,"
said McKinley, "let France look after her interests, let Germany take care of
her own people, but in God's name let Americans look after America." Fol-
lowing the Cleveland message, a bill reducing tariffs by about 7 per cent was
passed by the Democratic House but blocked in the Republican Senate — thus
the electorate was to decide in the shortly forthcoming presidential election
whether it was to support Cleveland and tariff reduction or Benjamin Harrison
and high protection.

In a base and corrupt campaign, the Republican candidate won, though
Cleveland's popular vote was 100,000 larger than that of Harrison. Matt
Quay, Pennsylvania's Republican boss, remarked that Harrison would "never
know how close a number of men were compelled to approach the gates of the
penitentiary to make him president" — an appropriate introduction to an ad-
ministration that was to set a new record of subservience to special interests.

227

PROBLEMS

UNDER

CLEVELAND

WHAT TO DO WITH THE PENSIONS? This
cartoon in Puck illustrated the pension situation. A year
after the Civil War only $15,000,000 was expended
on veterans' pensions, but by 1887 — because of the
powerful pressure brought by the Grand Army of
the Republic— this sum had grown to $75,000,000
annually. Many of these pensions were based on
fraudulent claims by men who had never seen actual
service. Medical examiners approved pension peti-
tions giving such amazing reasons, as that the appli-
cant had a "normal heart" or a "normal liver," and
there was a case where the physician supported the
applicant's petition because he had "a protuberant
abdomen." Congress passed personal pension bills
one after the other. As the country had already given
$800,000,000 to veterans, President Cleveland made
up his mind to halt this unjustifiable drain on the
public coffers. In his first term he vetoed 233 pension
bills out of 747 passed by Congress.

WHAT TO DO WITH THE SURPLUS? This
was one of the crucial questions under the Cleveland
administration. The country was prosperous, and the
federal income was far greater than the sum needed
for running expenses. From $100,000,000 in 1870 the
surplus rose to $300,000,000 by 1884.

A simple answer was for the government to repay
its debts, redeem its bonds. But this was easier said
than done. Such a move would have deprived the
public of its best investment, besides reducing the cir-
culation of bank notes for which the bonds were

228

security. Another way would have been to spend the
money on internal improvements— on better harbors,
dams, coastal defenses. But this countered the beliefs
of the Democrats— the party in power. "The people
must support the government," said Cleveland, "but
the government must not support the people."

In Cleveland's opinion, the simplest way out of the
dilemma was to reduce the tariff, which would not
only relieve the people of undue taxation, but would
also halt congressional largesse. Thus he devoted his
entire 1887 message to Congress to the argument for

tariff reduction, pointing out that for the past eleven
months the excess of revenue over expenditure had
been $55,000,000 and that by June 30, 1888, the
Treasury surplus would be $140,000,000— idly held
money, "uselessly subtracted from channels of trade."
The Senate, disregarding the President's plea,
would not pass the House-approved tariff reduction
bill. Thus the issue was put up to the electorate,
which in the following presidential election repu-
diated Cleveland and his plan and elected Benjamin
Harrison, the Republican advocate of high protection.

229

THE MONSTER MONOPOLY, a cartoon on Standard Oil in Judge. The late seventies
and early eighties saw the birth of large corporations, commonly called "trusts." Oil and
lead producers, sugar refiners, lumbermen, whiskey distillers, and other big businessmen
turned their holdings into great trusts, wielding enormous political and economic power.

230

LABOR LEADERS. As capital consolidated itself
in trusts, so labor organized into unions, demanding
equitable wages, fair working hours, protection against
unwarranted discharge, and a minimum security in
cases of sickness and disability.

These six men were founders of the Noble Order of
the Knights of Labor, a workers' organization which
had three quarters of a million members by 1886. It
advocated union of all trades, co-operative ownership
of means of production, education, and secrecy of
rituals. The empty chair is that of the movement's
deceased leader, Uriah S. Stephens.

VIOLENT STRIKES became marked under
Cleveland's administration. In 1884, the year Cleve-
land was elected, there were 485 strikes; in 1885 the
figure rose to 695, and in 1886 to 1,505. The Pres-
ident, deeply concerned about the labor disputes,
sent a special message to Congress in the spring of
1886 — the first presidential message on labor.

231

THE HAYMARKET RIOT IN CHICAGO

On May Day 1886 labor struck for an eight-hour
day. AH over the country, workers demonstrated.
Two days later, in a clash between police and pickets
at the McCormick Reaper Works, one worker was
killed and others wounded.

Next night, in a mass protest meeting on Chicago's

Haymarket Square, anarchists addressed the demon-
strators; and when the speeches became too inflam-
matory, the police ordered the crowd to disperse. At
that instant a bomb was thrown into the squad, killing
eight men instantly and wounding sixty more. The
enraged policemen charged into the crowd, the
demonstrators returned their fire; there were more

232

A BOMB EXPLODES
IN CHICAGO

ROOSEVELT'S INTEMPERATE REACTION

to the Haymarket riots is contained in a letter to his
sister Bamie from the Bad Lands. For this note,
written in hot anger, he was later severely criticized.
"My men here are hard-working, labouring men,"
wrote Roosevelt, "who work longer hours for no
greater wages than many of the strikers; but they are
Americans through and through. I believe nothing
would give them greater pleasure than a chance with
their rifles at one of the mobs. When we get the
papers, especially in relation to the dynamite busi-
ness, they become more furiously angry and excited
than I do. I wish I had them with me and a fair show
at ten times our number of rioters; my men shoot well
and fear very little."

Roosevelt's emotional outburst about the Hay-
market riots differed little from those of other proper-
tied men in the country. They were not only outraged
because labor broke the law, but because it wanted
to strengthen itself by becoming organized. And
after the unhappy bomb-throwing affair, labor
leaders became confused in their minds with cut-
throats and murderers, and labor's demand for
better working conditions and job security seemed to
them anarchist villainy.

dead and wounded.

Though the person who threw the bomb was
never found, eight anarchists were arrested. Four of
them were hanged on the charge of inciting people
to riot, the others sentenced to life imprisonment.

After the Haymarket incident the mood of the
country turned against labor and its organizations.

HIS LETTER ON THE HAYMARKET RIOT

233

THE NEW REPUBLICAN PRESIDENT. Benjamin Harrison, a colorless Indiana law-
yer, the grandson of President William Henry Harrison, was an easy butt for cartoonists.
Joseph Opper called this caricature which appeared in Puck: "Truth is stranger than fiction,"
and in it the nursery-tale midgets sing: "Great Lilliput! He's smaller than any of us!"

234

CHAPTER XVII

STARTING ALL OVER AGAIN

After Alice's death, Roosevelt shuttled restlessly between the Bad Lands
and the East. By the end of 1884 his term in the legislature was over and, as
he was not running for a fourth time, he was ready to turn his back on politics.
His future plans were to attend to his ranch, to hunt, to lead the life of a pri-
vate citizen. And in his spare time he would write. He would be no longer a
politician but "a literary feller."

The editor of the American Statesmen series asked him to contribute a biogra-
phy of Senator Thomas Hart Benton. He went at it like a house on fire.
Within a few weeks the book was completed. It was a superficial, poorly con-
ceived study, in which Benton was mainly evolved "from my inner conscious-
ness." In fact, Roosevelt had so little knowledge of his subject's life that he
asked his friend Cabot Lodge, in Boston, to hire someone in the East to find
out for him what Benton did after he left the Senate in 1850. The book is,
nonetheless, significant as a statement of Roosevelt's views on the American
character and the destiny of the United States. In praising Benton's anti-
British stand in the Oregon dispute, the author gave vent to his own national-
istic philosophy. He wrote: "By right we should have given ourselves the
benefit of every doubt in all territorial questions and have shown ourselves
ready to make prompt appeal to the sword whenever it became necessary as
a last resort." No wonder that the reviewer of the Nation found Roosevelt's
philosophy "too much muscular Christianity, minus the Christian part."

The Benton was followed by six articles for the Century Magazine, describing
life in the cattle country of the Far West. These pieces — completed in Italy a
year later — made up the volume Ranch Life and the Hunting Trail, a moderate
success with three thousand copies sold of the first edition.

Though he went through the motions of feverish activity, this was a bleak
period for Roosevelt, a period when he viewed his future with jaundiced eye.
His personal life in a shambles, his political life at a dead end, he tried to keep
himself frantically busy with his ranch and with his writing. "My chance of
doing anything in the future worth doing seems to grow continually smaller,"
he wrote to his friend Lodge.

Then — all of a sudden — everything had changed; all of a sudden the future
looked bright. To pinpoint the turn of his fortunes is hard, but a fair guess is that
it came in the fall of 1885 when he met his childhood sweetheart, Edith
Carow, again. For the next few months, until Edith moved to Europe with

235

her mother and her sister, they saw each other frequently. Theodore promised
to follow her to London in the fall and marry her. Why he needed more time,
one can only surmise. Social conventions demanded a restraint; Alice had
been dead only two years. Thus, in March 1886 he and Edith parted; Edith
sailed for Europe while Roosevelt returned to his ranch in the Bad Lands.

By the first week in October he was back in New York, ready to go after
Edith. While in the city he was persuaded by Republican politicians to
become the party's candidate for mayor and run against Henry George, the
self-educated printer from San Francisco and the author of Progress and
Poverty, who was the candidate of Labor. The Democrats put up Abram S.
Hewitt, the son-in-law of Peter Cooper and a wealthy ironmonger with strong
conviction for social reforms. At first it looked as if the Republicans would line
up behind Hewitt to ensure George's defeat, but then they settled on Roose-
velt, and in the Republican county convention at New York's Grand Opera
House, Chauncey M. Depew put his name into nomination.

As Depew was making his speech — according to the New York Times report
— Assemblyman Isaac Dayton moved to the rostrum in agitation, crying that
the man whom they were to nominate was no better than George. "He is a
free trader!" asserted Dayton, to which Depew retorted, "I say he is not!"
And he added, "He told me so last night." Then Depew went on, praising
Roosevelt for "the rare courage to acknowledge that he has recovered from
the errors of his youth." It may have been, Depew continued, that Roosevelt
when at Harvard "believed in the strange and extraordinary theories of
Henry George; he may even have had doubts of orthodox religion." But all
this belonged to the past; "today he stands cured."

The delegates accepted Roosevelt's candidacy by acclamation, though many
Republicans doubted the wisdom of putting up a candidate who would take
votes away from Hewitt and thus make certain the victory for George — a possi-
bility abhorrent to all conservatives. However, the New York Times was
squarely behind Roosevelt. In a long editorial it asked the citizens of New
York to support the Republican candidate, as he "excites more confidence
and enthusiasm than has been inspired by any candidate in a mayoralty con-
test within the memory of this generation of voters."

Roosevelt was not too confident of his chances. Shortly after his nomina-
tion he wrote to Lodge: "If at this time the decent so-called Republicans
would stand by me I would have a good chance of winning; as it is, if the
Hewitt stampede grows strong I will be most disastrously defeated." His pre-
monition proved to be right. The conservative Republicans, "the world
that owned houses and lands and stocks," was trembling. Panic-stricken, they
gave their support to the Democratic candidate rather than take a chance
and vote for Roosevelt. With their votes Hewitt won the election.

Roosevelt was badly beaten; his defeat was worse than he expected. But he
had no time to be downhearted; within a fortnight he was on the boat to Eng-
land, where Edith was waiting for him. On December 2 they were married in
London at St. George's Church. Best man was Cecil Spring-Rice, the young

236

English diplomat whom Roosevelt had met on the voyage to Europe and with
whom he struck up a friendship that lasted a lifetime.

After the wedding the young couple traveled in Italy. Roosevelt was not
anxious to return to America — not for a while anyhow.

Bad news came from his ranch. There was a disastrous winter in the West;
the blizzards left sheets of ice over the ground, leaving the cattle without sub-
sistence. When spring came, the valleys of the Bad Lands were covered with
the bodies of dead animals. Roosevelt knew that his cattle venture had ended
in a fiasco. Again the future looked bleak. He considered selling Sagamore
Hill, his newly built house at Oyster Bay, but he "did not have the heart" to
do it. He was pondering what to do. Politics? From Florence he wrote to his
sister: "I have not the slightest belief in my having any political future."

Thus, he journeyed from place to place, from Florence to Rome, from there
to Milan, and finally "we ended up in Venice by having a real snow storm."
Then to London and to the English countryside, visiting Lord North, "a dear
old gentleman, a regular old foxhunter, who wears a red dress coat," or hav-
ing lunch "at the castle of Lord Saye and Scale, a great moated place, built
in 1301, and looking as if it came out of an old world romance." But though
he enjoyed social life, liked to meet people and to make new acquaintances,
"after all I shall be glad to get home; I am an American through to the
backbone."

On March 19 he and Edith returned home. A short trip to the Bad Lands —
to count his losses and wind up his cattle enterprise — then settling down at
Sagamore Hill, working on a biography of Gouverneur Morris and on his
most ambitious project, The Winning of the West.

The summer of 1887 passed quietly but happily. If there was relatively
little entertaining, that was no cause for regret to Edith, who was somewhat
bookish and retiring by nature and, moreover, was expecting a child in the
fall. There were picnics and rowboat rides and much reading aloud from the
works of Browning and Thackeray and Matthew Arnold. And there was little
Alice, whom Theodore found a delightful companion for his leisure hours,
whether building castles of blocks in the nursery or "cavorting and prancing
with that young lady on, my back." When Edith's baby, a boy, arrived in
mid-September, he was of course named Theodore. His father found him a
"very merry lovable little fellow," and not long afterward gave what, by his
strenuous standards, must have been the ultimate seal of approval: "He plays
more vigorously than anyone I ever saw."

Politically, Roosevelt was in the desert. Editor Godkin, annoyed by his
assaults on the mugwumps, deemed them "chatter-box abuse," and declared
that he wasn't worth taking seriously as a politician and never had been.

But as time passed and, in the fall of 1888, Benjamin Harrison was nomi-
nated as the Republican contender for the presidency, Roosevelt was- once
more back in the fray, speaking on behalf of the Republican ticket, pleading
for Harrison and for high protection. And when Harrison was elected Theo-
dore Roosevelt was on his way to becoming a public figure again.

237

THE REPUBLICANS SEND THEIR YOUNG AND BRAVE KNIGHT INTO THE BATTLE OF

In 1 886 when Henry George became the Labor can-
didate for the chief city office, both Democrats and
Republicans were panic-stricken. George was branded
as a dangerous fanatic; his thesis "that with the growth
in population land grows in value, and the men who
work for it must pay more for the privilege" and his
suggested remedy — a juster distribution of wealth
through taxation — were anathema to men of property.
To oppose George, Tammany and the Democrats
nominated Abram S. Hewitt, a wealthy businessman.

At first the Republicans considered supporting
Hewitt to ensure the defeat of George, but then, for
the sake of improving their bargaining position, they
decided to run their own candidate. They approached
Elihu Root and Levi P. Morton, and when both had
declined, their choice became Theodore Roosevelt.

As to his chances, Roosevelt had no rosy dreams.
On October 1 7 he wrote to Cabot Lodge that after
being entreated by a number of influential Republi-
cans to take the nomination, "with the most genuine

238

HENRY GEORGE

The candidate of Labor
and the liberal element
for the mayoralty came
from San Francisco to
live in New York. Con-
servative Republicans,
fearing George's victory,
turned to the Demo-
cratic candidate rather
than support their own.

ABRAM S. HEWITT

The candidate of the
Democrats, a respected
ironmonger and phil-
anthropist, won the may-
oralty in one of the
city's most exciting con-
tests. Hewitt was an ar-
dent advocate of social
reforms; he fought cor-
ruption in government.

THE NEW YORK MAYORALTY CAMPAIGN

reluctance I finally accepted. It is of course a per-
fectly hopeless contest." And three days later: ". . . if
the Hewitt stampede grows strong I will be most
disastrously defeated."

Of the contest— which Hewitt won— Jacob Riis
remarked: "And in the wild dread of the disaster that
was coming, men forsook party, principles, everything,
and threw themselves into the arms of Tammany."

Roosevelt's wire to his friend Lodge was terse:
"Am badly defeated. Worse even than I feared."

DEFEATED. Abram Hewitt won the hotly contested
election with 90,522 votes. Henry George had 68,1 10,
while Roosevelt ran third with 60,435. Puck, the satiri-
cal political weekly, wrote in derision: "Be happy, Mr.
Roosevelt, be happy while you may . . . Bright visions
float before your eyes of what the Party can and may
do for you. We wish you a gradual and gentle awaken-
ing. We fear the Party cannot do much for you."

239

MARRIED AGAIN

The first girl in Theodore's life was Edith Carow,
whom he had known since early childhood. It was her
picture which, showed to the eleven-year-old Theo-
dore while he was in Europe, "stired up in me home-
sicknes and longing for the past which will come
again never, alack never." Then — while at Harvard
—he met Alice Lee, fell in love with her, and mar-
ried his "wilful darling." Edith Carow remained a
friend, but the two saw little of each other. After
Alice's death, Theodore deliberately avoided Edith.
He had strong moral convictions; with all his dash
and bravado, he was heart and soul a Victorian.
But then — by one of those coincidences — they met
in the fall of 1885. Intending to visit his sister at her
Madison Avenue home, Theodore met Edith in the
hallway just as she was leaving after a call on Bamie.
From then on — for the next five months — they be-
came constant companions. (For days his diary con-
tained no entry but the letter "E.") In the spring of
1 886 Edith went to London with her mother and
sister; in the fall of the same year — after his defeat
in the New York mayoralty contest — Theodore fol-
lowed her. On December 2, 1886, they were married.

EDITH KERMIT CAROW, the "Eidieth" of his
childhood, became Roosevelt's second wife. On the
marriage certificate (see the facsimile below) the
bridegroom gave his profession as "ranchman."

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240

HIS LITERARY OUTPUT

"Writing is to me intensely irksome work," confessed
Roosevelt to his sister, yet he kept on writing books
in quick succession. In 1885 he published Hunting
Trips of a Ranchman; a year later he completed the
biography of Missouri Senator Thomas Hart Benton;

SAGAMORE HILL, his home at
Oyster Bay, designed by Rich and
Lorenzo, with twenty-three spacious
rooms was large enough to accom-
modate a growing family. Com-
pleted in the spring of 1885, it cost
$17,000. It was not a thing of ex-
terior beauty. "I did not know
enough to be sure what I wished in
outside matters," Roosevelt said,
"but I had perfectly definite views
what I wished in inside matters . . .
I had to live inside and not outside
the house." The result was a solid,
immensely livable home with eight
big fireplaces, a spacious piazza for
viewing the sunset, and an at-
mosphere of serene permanence.

1888 saw the publication of his biography on Gouver-
neur Morris, also his articles on "Ranch Life and the
Hunting Trail." During these years he was also work-
ing on his major literary opus, a carefully researched
study of The Winning of the West (published in three
volumes) and on his history of the City of New York.

241

STREET SCENE IN WASHINGTON in the Spring of 1889, when Theodore Roosevelt
moved to the city to take office as U. S. Civil Service Commissioner. The post was an impecu-
nious one, paying only $3,500 a year. But Roosevelt accepted it with alacrity. He desired "to
go into politics," and he considered the appointment a good step in that direction.

242

CHAPTER XVIII

CIVIL SERVICE
COMMISSIONER

With Benjamin Harrison in the White House, Roosevelt's hopes soared for
a return to public life. Weary of being a private citizen, he sought for a political
job. When Cabot Lodge approached the new Secretary of State, James G.
Elaine, on his friend's behalf, and Blaine — the same man whom Roosevelt
and Lodge had so ardently fought in the 1884 convention — spoke to the
President about an appointment, Roosevelt wrote Lodge: "I hope you will tell
Blaine how much I appreciate his kind expressions." The post he desired was
that of Assistant Secretary of State, but nothing came of it. Roosevelt had to
content himself with a much smaller job. He was offered the post of a civil
service commissioner at a salary of $3,500 a year, and he accepted it.

Roosevelt had strong feelings about corruption in government and the spoils
system. He was an ardent fighter for civil-service reforms. "No republic can
permanently endure when its politics are corrupt and base; and the spoils sys-
tem, the application in politics of the degrading doctrine that to the victor be-
long the spoils, produces corruption and degradation. The man who is in
politics for the offices might just as well be in politics for the money he can get
for his vote, so far as the general good is concerned," he wrote for Scribner's Maga-
zine in August 1895. And he said: "The spoils-monger and spoils-seeker invari-
ably breed the bribe-taker and bribe-giver, the embezzler of public funds, and
the corrupter of voters. Civil-service reform is not merely a movement to better
the public service. It achieves this end, too; but its main purpose is to raise the
tone of public life, and it is in this direction that its effects have been of incal-
culable good to the whole community."

As he headed to Washington he told the press: "You can guarantee that I
intend to hew to the line and let the chips fall where they will." And to
nobody's surprise the chips flew thick and fast. From the day of May 13, 1889,
when he took office, until the day of May 5, 1895, when he left his post, the
quarters of the Civil Service Commission were in a veritable turmoil. When
politicians attacked the commission, Roosevelt returned the attack; when they
cut off appropriations, he retaliated by cutting off civil service examinations
in their district. Within a few weeks the hitherto obscure commission began
making headlines. "No longer," said Roosevelt later in recalling these times,
"was there an apology; blow was given for blow." Although the commission
never had the desired powers, it made "a resolute fight, and gave the widest

243

publicity to the wrong doing." One of his fellow commissioners recalled: "Every
day I went to the office it was as to an entertainment. I knew something was
sure to turn up to make our work worthwhile, with him there."

Irj Washington he took a small house near Connecticut Avenue, and before
long it was a gathering place for personalities from both the political and
cultural worlds. Henry Cabot Lodge and Cecil Spring-Rice, now attached to
the British Embassy, were constant companions; John Hay and William
Howard Taft, their fame yet to come, were frequent visitors, along with Henry
Adams, whose aloof intellectualism contrasted sharply with Roosevelt's brash-
ness. During this period, also, he came to know Rudyard Kipling and Richard
Harding Davis, as well as James Bryce, later British ambassador, who was
already embarked on the writing of his monumental The American Common-
wealth. Kipling used to go with Roosevelt to the Cosmos Club. "I curled up
on the seat opposite," he said, "and listened and wondered until the universe
seemed to be spinning around and Theodore was the spinner." And in the
hours spared from civil service work and Washington social currents Roose-
velt continued to work on the third and final volume of The Winning of the
West, to be published in the fall of 1894. In a chatty letter to his sister
he described his life in the capital:

"Washington is just a big village, but it is a very pleasant big village. Edith
and I meet just the people we like to see. This winter we have had a most
pleasant time, socially and officially. All I have minded is that, though my
work is pleasant, I have had to keep at it so closely that I never get any exer-
cise save an occasional ride with Cabot. We dine out three or four times a
week, and have people to dinner once or twice; so that we hail the two or
three evenings when we are alone at home, and can talk and read, or Edith
sews while I make ineffective bolts at my third volume. The people we meet
are mostly those who stand high in the political world, and who are therefore
interested in the same subjects that interest us; while there are enough who
are men of letters or of science to give a pleasant and needed variety. Then
besides our formal dinners, we are on terms of informal intimacy in houses
like the Cabots, the Storers, the Wolcotts and Henry Adams. It is pleasant
to meet people from whom one really gets spmething; people from all over
the Union, with different pasts and varying interests, trained, able, powerful
men, though often narrow minded enough."

It was not long before he was entangled in a fight with John Wanamaker,
the New York store owner, who, in return for his generous contribution to the
Republican chest, had been appointed Postmaster General. Wanamaker
insisted that the President "give full weight to the congressional claims of
patronage." And Harrison, respectful of Wanamaker's munificence, was
inclined to defer. But Roosevelt, shocked by the fact that in the first year of
Wanamaker's term no less than thirty thousand postmasters had been dismissed
and replaced with "deserving" Republicans, undertook an investigation of cor-
ruption in the Baltimore Post Office and recommended dismissing twenty-five of
the Wanamaker appointees. "Damn Wanamaker!" Roosevelt shouted when no
newspaperman was within earshot. Eventually the charges were investigated

244

and affirmed by the House Civil Service Committee. The incident dismayed
President Harrison; he felt Roosevelt had gone too far.

Roosevelt despised Harrison's attitude toward civil-service reform. After
a talk with the President, he exclaimed: "Heavens, how I like positive men!"
At another time he complained that the President "actually refuses to con-
sider the changes in the rules which are necessary to enable us to do our work
effectively. He has never given us one ounce of real backing. He won't see us,
or consider any method for improving the service, even when it in no way
touches a politician. It is horribly disheartening to work under such a Chief."
But when Harrison was asked about Roosevelt, he said: "The only trouble I
ever had managing him" was that "he wanted to put an end to all the evil in
the world between sunrise and sunset."

Not only the President incurred Roosevelt's displeasure. His temper rose
sharply whenever he crossed swords with men whom he thought dishonest.
"He is a liar and a coward, and as soon as I get back I shall write him an
open letter telling him so," he wrote about one (Grosvenor), and about an-
other (Carlisle): "He is dishonest, untruthful and cowardly."

In the evenings Roosevelt read voraciously — books, magazines, everything.
And if he disliked what he read, he let out a yell that reverberated in the ears
of his friends and his family. Thus, after reading a story by Henry James in
the London Yellow Book, he wrote his sister: "I think it represents the last stage
of degradation. What a miserable little snob Henry James is. His polished,
pointless, uninteresting stories about the upper social classes of England make
one blush to think that he was once an American. The rest of the book is sim-
ply diseased. I turned to a story of Kipling's with the feeling of getting into
fresh, healthy, out-of-doors life."

He thought that Hamlin Garland was faulty in his reasoning about the
great literary figures of the past. "He is entirely wrong in thinking that Shake-
speare, Homer and Milton are not permanent. Of course they are!" But in his
main thesis Garland was right, wrote Roosevelt to his friend Brander Matthews.
"We must strike out for ourselves; we must work according to our own ideas,
and must free ourselves from the shackles of conventionality, before we can
do anything."

In the presidential election of 1892, Grover Cleveland won over Harrison.
Roosevelt, who had assailed Cleveland as an enemy of civil service reforms,
must have been wondering whether the Democratic President would hold
that against him. "I had thought of trying to see Mr. Cleveland but came to
the conclusion that this would be an unwarrantable intrusion on my part as
he must now be overwhelmed with visitors," he wrote to Carl Schurz, "but I
should like to see you who stand so close to him and to tell you exactly how
the civil service question appears to me here."

But when Carl Schurz saw the President on Roosevelt's behalf, Cleveland
was most cordial. So Roosevelt went to see him "and had a very pleasant half
hour's chat with him." Soon Cleveland asked Roosevelt "to stay for a year or
two longer," and Roosevelt consented happily. For another three years he re-
mained on the job. Not until the spring of 1895 did he leave Washington.

245

THE PRESIDENT'S JOB-SEEKING RELATIVES

THE PRESIDENT MUZZLES THE PRESS

PRESIDENT
HARRISON
AS GRINDER
OF THE

ADMINISTRATE!
PATRONAGE MIL

THE ERA OF BENJAMIN HARRISON-AS SEEN THROUGH THE CARTOONISTS' EYES

"Bosses of the Senate," Joseph Keppler's famous car-
toon in Puck, shows a row of huge human-headed
money bags as the real powers behind the Upper
House. "This is the Senate of the monopolists, by the
monopolists and for the monopolists" reads the sign
on the wall— hardly an exaggeration. All the big
trusts had their subservient agents. The oil trust had
its senators, as had the railroads, the manufacturing
and the lumber interests, the insurance and utility
companies. Thus, for instance, J. Donald Cameron,
of Pennsylvania, looked after the welfare of the
Pennsylvania Railroad; Arthur Pue Gorman, of
Maryland, after the Central Maryland Railroad;
William B. Allison, of Iowa, after the railroads which
ran through his state; while Nelson W. Aldrich, of

Rhode Island, was a mouthpiece of large manu-
facturing companies.

The public regarded the Senate as a club of rich
men— and rightly so. In that august body sat a num-
ber of millionaires— men like Leland Stanford of
California, John P. Jones of Nevada, Johnson N.
Camden of West Virginia— who were not hesitant
to vote upon issues in which they had a personal
financial interest. If a man had enough money he
could buy a Senate seat. Senatofs were not yet
elected by popular vote; they were named by the
state legislatures, and legislators could be bought
wholesale. Thus, as the cartoonist points out, all the
monopolies had their representatives, while the
people's entrance (on the left) was tightly closed.

247

SIX WEEKS AFTER HIS APPOINTMENT to

the Civil Service Commission, Theodore Roosevelt
said: "I have made this commission a living force."
To political opponents he replied "that as long as I
am responsible the law should be enforced up to the
handle everywhere, fearlessly, and honestly."

As a civil service commissioner, Roosevelt kept
himself in the public eye. His name was constantly
in the newspapers, and the press reported his pro-
nouncements and quarrels with great glee. Roosevelt
knew how to put across his ideas so that everyone
could understand them. And despite the coolness of
President Harrison (seen in this amusing Dalrymple
cartoon holding "the brave little giant killer" on a

leash) and the regular politicians toward him, both
press and public relished what one observer termed
"the spectacle of a man holding a minor and rather
nondescript office, politically unimportant, taking
a cabinet officer by the neck and exposing him to
the amused contempt of all honest Americans."

In the year of 1889 when he became a civil serv-
ice commissioner, there were only 21,000 federal
employees under the commissioners' jurisdiction,
but Roosevelt tackled his work as if it were the most
important in the whole federal government. He
took a forthright stand on the issues, attacking any-
one who was in his way, speaking and writing arti-
cles publicizing the need for civil service reform.

248

THIRTY-TWO-YEAR-OLD

Theodore Roosevelt at the
time he served as civil serv-
ice commissioner. With him
is his eldest son, Theodore,
Jr., who was born in 1887.

ONE-YEAR-OLD

The photograph of this baby
was taken by J. F. Klinger in
Braunau, Austria, roughly
about the same period as the
large one of Roosevelt with
his son. It is the first por-
trait of a child — born on
April 20, 1889— who caused a
great deal of upheaval in the
next century — Adolf Hitler.

THE ENEMIES

CIVIL SERVICE

REFORM

"When Stanley carried the first steamboat up the
Congo," reads the caption under this Louis Dalrym-
ple cartoon in Puck, "the natives ran along the
banks, yelling with rage, and striving to check his
progress by throwing stones and other missiles. Mr.
Stanley got there, just the same."

In the cartoon Roosevelt plays the role of explorer
Stanley, while the natives are public men who are
trying to check his progress. In the background, from
left to right: Senator William Mahone, who con-
trolled the patronage of Virginia; "Corporal" James
Tanner, the Commissioner of Pensions, in whose
opinion "nothing was too good for an old soldier";
Vice-President Levi P. Morton; Secretary of War
Redfield Proctor; Colonel Dudley, the treasurer of
the Republican National Committee; Senator Mat-
thew Quay of Pennsylvania, the boss of his state's
political machine.

In the foreground: Secretary of State James G.
Elaine; President Benjamin Harrison; Charles An-
derson Dana, the eccentric editor of the New York
Sun, who said that civil service was "a German
bureaucratic system"; Postmaster General John
Wanamaker and First Assistant Postmaster General
James S. Clarkson, under whom in a single year
thirty thousand Democratic fourth-class postmasters
were replaced by Republicans; and, finally, Thomas
Platt, head of New York's political machine.

Roosevelt as a civil service commissioner was both
lauded and criticized. Some of his admirers said that
after he took the post, "order began to appear out of
chaos" and that members of Congress "went stagger-
ing from a contact with the Commission," while his
critics held that he talked big but accomplished little.
It is true that Roosevelt kept himself steadily in the
limelight, but his speeches, his quarrels and his arti-
cles were to publicize the weaknesses of the civil serv-
ice laws. Roosevelt and his fellow commissioners took
effective action on many occasions 'to improve bad
situations, and the office was administered impar-
tially, honestly, and with unselfish devotion. Roose-
velt's work focused the interest of the people on
a much needed civil service reform; if he did noth-
ing more, this was an important contribution.

251

THE BILLION-
DOLLAR COUNTRY

The expenditures of the Fifty-first Congress— from
December 2, 1889, to March 3, 1891— ran to more
than a billion dollars. When Democrats called it the
"Billion-dollar Congress," House Speaker Thomas
B. Reed replied brusquely, "Yes, but this is a billion-
dollar country."

President Harrison allowed his administration to
become subservient to special interests. Under him
pension and tariff legislation cut deep into the sur-
plus. The Disability Pension Act of 1890 authorized
pensions to any veterans deemed unable to perform
manual labor, whether or not the disability was the
result of military service. The Grand Army of the
Republic, which pressured the law into existence,
acknowledged that it was "the most liberal pension
measure ever passed by any legislative body in the
world."

As to the tariff, Congressman William McKinley
of Ohio, the chairman of the House Ways and Means
Committee, introduced a bill that demonstrated con-
clusively the businessmen's domination over govern-
ment. Duties were increased on almost all articles of
household consumption. "Cheap merchandise," said
McKinley, "means cheap men, and cheap men
means cheap country; and that is not the kind of
government our fathers followed, and it is not the
kind their sons mean to follow." And while the
American people were forced to pay high prices for

PUBLIC OPINION POINTS A FINGER AT THE

Senator John James Ingalls was the President pro
tempore of the Senate; Congressman William Mc-
Kinley, who introduced a highly protective tariff act;

consumer goods, the earning power of the workers
and farmers remained the same as before.

As the mid-term election of 1890 approached, the
Democrats had three telling campaign issues: 1 . They
charged the Republicans with extravagant spending
(annual appropriations for pensions had increased

252

LEADING POLITICIANS OF THE REPUBLICAN-DOMINATED FIFTY-FIRST CONGRESS

Senator George F. Hoar, whose "Force Bill" was to
provide supervisipn of federal elections in the South;
Senator Matthew Quay, from Pennsylvania, the ruth-

less machine politician, and Thomas B. Reed, Speaker
of the House of Representatives, who ruled that body
with an iron hand and was referred to as the "Czar."

during Harrison's term by leaps and bounds); 2. fo-
menting sectionalism (the Republican "Force Bill,"
which passed the House but failed in the Senate,
provided for supervision of elections in the South so
that the Negroes should not be deprived of the vote);
3. surrender to the trusts (citing the high provisions of

the McKinley Tariff Act).

The country agreed with such arguments. The
Republicans suffered a disastrous defeat; they lost
control in the House and barely kept their majority in
the Senate. The Fifty-second Congress was composed
of 235 Democrats but only 88 Republicans.

253

ECONOMIC DISCONTENT. In the beginning of
July 1892 resentment between labor and manage-
ment culminated in pitched battles between striking
steelworkers at Carnegie's Homestead Plant in Penn-
sylvania and those who were engaged by the com-
pany to subdue the strike. Henry Clay Frick, the
company's general manager, in an effort to wipe out
the Amalgamated Association of Iron and Steel
Workers, ordered a wage cut. When the workers
called a strike, Frick hired three hundred Pinkerton
men to break it. As these men descended the Mo-

nongahela in barges, they were spotted by the strikers,
who opened fire on them. For the next days the plant
and its environs were scenes of violence, with many
dead and wounded. With the calling of eight thou-
sand National Guardsmen, the strike was broken.
Public indignation against Carnegie and Frick (who
had been wounded by an anarchist bullet) ran high
and reacted against the Republican party; in the
forthcoming presidential election the Republican
Benjamin Harrison lost out to Grover Cleveland,
once more the candidate of the Democratic party.

254

POLITICAL DISCONTENT. The beginning of
the nineties saw the birth of a colorful third party —
the Populists. Born of bitter poverty on the Mid-
western and Southern farms, the People's party (the
official name of the Populists) represented a protest
against a government which stood aside while the
agricultural depression hit the farms and which did
little to curb the abuses of the trusts.

The Populists held out a promise to all those who
cried for reforms; farmer and labor organizations
were brought under the same banner to fight united

for their rights. In the ranks of the new party were
members of the Farmers' Alliance, of the Knights of
Labor; Greenbackers, single-tax men, socialists, suf-
fragettes, free silverites. Gillam called his hostile
cartoon 'The Party of Patches." Its leaders, driven
by an almost religious fanaticism, ranged from Mary
Ellen Lease, who urged farmers to "raise less corn
and more hell," and Ignatius Donnelly, who agitated
for the rights of man, to William Jennings Bryan, the
silver-tongued orator from Nebraska, who was to lead
the movement to its greatest heights a few years later.

255

CLEVELAND IS PRESIDENT AGAIN. He was James B. Weaver, received over a million votes. In

re-elected with 277 electoral votes against Benjamin
Harrison's 145. Such was the dissatisfaction with the
policies of Harrison that the Populists' candidate,

this superb photograph of the March 4, 1893, inau-
gural, the outgoing President Harrison (on the right
of Cleveland) protects his ears from the chilly winds.

256

CHAPTER XIX

THE BATTLE OF THE
STANDARDS

Cleveland's second administration started off poorly. Weeks before his
inauguration, a wildly fluctuating securities market hoisted economic storm
signals. Late in February the Philadelphia and Reading Railroad had to de-
clare bankruptcy. With the collapse of the National Cordage Company, a
great trust so irresponsibly managed that it announced a large cash dividend
in the very month in which it went under, the stage for the panic was set.
Within six months the Erie, Northern Pacific, Union Pacific, and Santa Fe
railroads were in the hands of receivers, and a wave of bank failures had swept
the South and West. By the end of the year there had been some 15,000 bank-
ruptcies involving liabilities of more than one third of a billion dollars, while
in the cities and mill towns four million people were out of work. It was a finan-
cial depression of great magnitude.

Why should a country so prosperous slide into the doldrums of economic
distress? One underlying cause of the trouble was the money question, an issue
which had been simmering for a quarter of a century and was now ready to
boil over. There were two contrasting views: on the one side were those who
demanded the free coinage of silver so that the money in circulation could be
increased, on the other side those who desired to hold on to the single gold
standard. In reality "the battle of standards," as this struggle became known,
was the contest for power between the agrarian South and West against the
industrial East — the final chapter in the historic tug-of-war between the
Jeffersonian and Hamiltonian concepts of government.

Roosevelt — as his letters of this period show — seemed unconcerned with the
economic problems of the day. He directed his attention to the work of the
Civil Service Commission, improving the laws and investigating the inequities
and irregularities. His life in Washington ran on an even keel. He went to par-
ties, saw his friends, found enjoyment in his growing family. And he kept on
working on his historical study of The Winning of the West.

And while he immersed himself in his work, the debate in the country on
the issue of inflation or deflation — hard money or soft money — proceeded. That
the argument turned into gold versus silver was simply because the amount of
currency was limited by the amount of gold available to redeem the paper
money. The United States was under the gold standard, and while between
1860 and 1890 world gold production had remained static, at the same time
America's population had doubled. This caused great hardship to all those who
worked for their living, to all those who were compelled to borrow money, to

257

all those who had to take mortgages. As farm prices and prices of goods were
down, the debtor class had to work harder and longer to repay their obliga-
tions. Thus, a Western farmer who took a $5000 mortgage on his farm after
the Civil War — the equivalent of 2500 bushels of wheat — had to produce 5000
bushels of wheat to repay the loan twenty years later.

From the West came the cry that there was not enough money in circulation,
therefore it was suggested that the government should allow the free, unlimited
coinage of silver, as this would increase the supply of money without a large-
scale inflation — a certain result if the government were to print greenbacks
unsecured by bullion of any kind. In their demand for free silver the farmers
were supported by the silver mine operators, who were producing a steadily
increasing supply of the metal and were eager to sell it to the government.

President Cleveland held that the Sherman Silver Purchase Act of 1890 was
one of the main causes for the depression, as that law had shaken the confi-
dence of the business interests, thus he pleaded for its repeal. A special session
of Congress granted the request, but it turned out to be a Pyrrhic victory for
the President. It split the ranks of the Democrats, the silver wing of the party
opposing Cleveland's policies and denouncing him as a tool of Wall Street.

However, the repeal of the Sherman Silver Purchase Act had no effect on
the depression. The drain on the nation's gold reserves became alarming; the
federal surplus which had caused concern four years earlier had disappeared
like the snows of yesterday. Because of the high tariff rates, the income of the
government dwindled; where for years there had been a surplus, there was now
a deficit. And when Cleveland tried to remedy the tariff schedules, protection-
ist Democrats in the Senate joined the Republicans in so many crippling
amendments that the President termed the resultant Wilson-Gorman Act a
product of "party perfidy." He sought to bolster federal revenues with a two
per cent tax on incomes above $4000, but the tax was declared unconstitutional
by a 5-4 decision of the Supreme Court. The Republicans who were against
the income tax measure were well pleased with themselves. Senator John
Sherman of Ohio declared that the High Court had saved the nation from
"socialism, communism, devilism."

"The year of 1894, the year of the Wilson tariff and the income tax decision,
was the darkest that Americans had known for thirty years," say Morison and
Commager in their The Growth of the American Republic. Unemployment reached
a new high, bread lines lengthened, farm prices continued a downward spiral.
" Everything seemed to conspire to convince the people that democracy was a
failure. Prices and wages hit rock bottom, and there seemed to be no market
for anything. Half a million laborers struck against conditions which they
thought intolerable, and most of the strikes were dismal failures. Ragged and
hungry bands of unemployed swarmed over the countryside, the fires from their
hobo camps flickering a message of warning and despair to affrighted towns-
folk. Coxey's army, consisting of broken veterans of the armies of industry,
inspired by the pathetic delusion that a 'petition on boots' might bring relief,
marched on Washington where they were arrested for trespassing on the Capitol

258

grounds — a charge which somehow was never preferred against the silk-hatted
lobbyists who presented their petitions for higher tariffs. The corn crop was a
failure; wheat fell below fifty cents a bushel, cotton to six cents a pound, and
bitterness swept over the West like a prairie fire. Never did the government
seem more unfriendly, or democratic processes more futile. The Pullman workers
struck for a living wage, and every agency of the government was enlisted to
smash the strike. Representatives of the people in the lower House tried to
reduce tariff duties, and representatives of privilege in the Senate made a farce
of the effort. Congress passed an anti-trust law and it was enforced not against
the trusts but against labor unions; when the great Sugar Trust was finally called
into court, the Attorney-General of the United States sabotaged the prosecu-
tion. Congress enacted an income tax and it was voided in the highest court.
And the President sold bonds to Wall Street, while silver, the poor man's friend,
was disinherited and disgraced!"

The distressing economic conditions brought a devastating Republican sweep
in the midterm election, a hopeful augury for winning the Presidency in 1896.

Roosevelt seemed strangely aloof from all the turmoil. He seemed — apart
from his civil service job — more interested in personal than in public matters.
The behavior of his brother Elliott, who could not resist the bottle, disturbed
him. "He can't be helped," he wrote to his sister Anna, "and he must simply
be let go his own gait. He is now laid up from a serious fall; while drunk he
drove into a lamp post and went out on his head. Poor fellow! if only he could
have died instead of Anna." (Anna was Elliott's wife — Eleanor Roosevelt's
mother.) And he told Corinne, his younger sister: "It is very sad about Elliott,
but there is literally nothing to do. After a certain number of years and trials
no one can help another." His attitude seemed callous and showed little under-
standing of his brother's problems. But when Elliott died in August, he wrote
to Corinne: "There is one great comfort I already feel; I only need to have
pleasant thoughts of Elliott now. He is just the gallant, generous, manly boy
and young man whom everyone loved. I can think of him when you and I and
he used to go round 'exploring' the hotels, the time we were first in Europe;
do you remember how we used to do it? and then in the days of the dancing
class, when he was distinctly the polished man-of-the-world from outside. . . .
Or when we were off on his little sailing boat for a two or three days trip on
the Sound; or when he first hunted; and when he visited me at Harvard."

In his post on the Civil Service Commission Roosevelt ardently fought
for his beliefs. "I don't know that anyone will be fool enough to do as much
fighting as I have done," he wrote to a friend. He felt that the entire Cabinet
was down on him, though "I have purposely refrained under the present
administration from making fights which I should have made under the last,
because there continually come up cases which I would be willing to take up
with ferocity were the offenders of my own party, but where I fear I can do
no good as they are not."

Still, his heart was no longer in his job. He was looking for new horizons.

259

AMERICA— A DEBTOR NATION

Americans are sensitive about foreign influence and foreign criticism. During the nine-
teenth century, and until the end of World War I, the United States was a debtor nation, with
its bonds sold in Europe and held by English, German, and other foreign financiers. Many
Americans held that the bankers of England bled white free enterprise in the United States.
The above cartoon in Puck gives vent to these feelings.

If a foreigner was critical, it was resented. When Theodore Roosevelt entertained the
English writer Rudyard Kipling at dinner and Kipling used critical language, Roosevelt
would have none of it. "Kipling is an underbred little fellow," he wrote to his sister Anna
after the incident, "with a tendency to criticize America to which I put a stop by giving
him a very rough handling . . ." The nation was young and needed approval, not criticism.

260

TROUBLES WITH GOLD

At the beginning of President
Cleveland's administration in 1893,
the gold reserve had dwindled below
the dangerous $100,000,000 mark;
by the end of the year it was down
to $75,000,000. To remedy the situa-
tion the Treasury issued $50,000,000
in bonds payable in gold.

When the date of payment for the
first installment arrived, the bond
buyers withdrew gold from the
banks, and the banks — depleted of
their gold resources — sent their notes
to the Treasury, asking for replen-
ishment of their gold supplies. Thus
in an "endless chain" financial in-
stitutions took gold from the Treas-
ury, gave it to their customers, who
then returned it to the Treasury.
This vicious circle was not halted
until late in 1896 when the election
of the Republican William McKin-
ley to the presidency restored the con-
fidence of the financial community.

In this cartoon President Cleve-
land heats the gold reserve thermom-
eter with bonds, hoping it will rise.

TROUBLES WITH SILVER

The Sherman Silver Purchase Act
of 1890 became law when eastern
Republicans traded their votes for
western support of the McKinley
tariff bill. The deal consummated,
the Treasury was compelled to buy
4,500,000 ounces of silver each
month to make into coin. But when
the depression of 1893 hit the coun-
try, President Cleveland pointed to
the Sherman Silver Purchase Act
as one of the main causes for the
nation's economic distress. Calling
Congress into a special session, he
demanded the Act's unconditional
repeal. By adroit use of his patron-
age powers, he succeeded. The New
York Times commended him for his
"iron firmness" and for saving the
country from fiscal ruin.

This cartoon, by Louis Dalrymple,
appeared in Puck in September 1893.

261

JOHN BULL AFTER US AGAIN,

; , ' Uutt* SAM. — 1 fr*n I That fetter «w't »eem to let me atone— 1 11 her to lire Mm wit ttf\*l

AMERICA—A DEBTOR NATION

260

TROUBLES WITH GOLD

In this cartoon President Cleve-
land heats the gold reserve thermom-
eter with bonds, hoping it will rise.

<v***-

TROUBLES WITH SILVER

This cartoon, by Louis Dalrymple,
appeared in Puck in September 1893.

261

COXEY'S ARMY
MARCHES TO
WASHINGTON

The depression of 1893 brought unemployment,
lockouts, wage cuts. Jobless men formed into "armies"
with "generals" as their leaders.

In April 1894, "General" Jacob S. Coxey, a
wealthy quarry owner from Massillon, Ohio (sitting
in the carriage), led such a band of unemployed to

262

Washington, where he demanded that Congress ; f
issue five hundred million dollars of legal tender ^ J
notes for the building of roads as a remedy for un-
employment (used four decades later by Franklin D.
Roosevelt). Coxey's march ended in ridicule when
police arrested him for trespassing on the Capitol lawn.

THE PULLMAN STRIKE IN CHICAGO

came about when the Pullman Palace Car Company,
using the depression as an excuse, reduced workers'
wages to a minimum. The American Railway Union,
headed by energetic Eugene V. Debs, demanded

arbitration of the wage issue; when the request was
refused, the union forbade its members to handle
Pullman cars. By the end of June 1894 from Ohio to
California trains lay idle; strikers and federal troops
fought all along the railroad lines.

FEDERAL TROOPS were pro-
tecting the mails in Chicago.
Illinois Governor Peter Altgeld
protested their presence, but
President Cleveland exclaimed:
"If it takes the entire army and
navy of the United States to
deliver a postal card in Chicago,
that card will be delivered/'

Though their union urged the
strikers to refrain from violence,
trains were ditched, buildings
burned, property destroyed. A
federal court issued a blanket in-
junction against the labor leaders
for obstructing the mails. With the
arrest of Debs, and other union
leaders, the strike was broken.

264

ROOSEVELT PLAYING BALL

AT- n ADA \Mf\W LTTT T T\rjOQA

THE VENEZUELA
AFFAIR

xo&tmrmiT MIX* WA*.

Better, He *)•**, Tfcsm Faam witfc teaaef

President Rooee^ltof th* Police Board said
this morning regarding the Preaidattt'a mesaaje
on the Venezuelan question:

" t cannot too heartily praise (fee admirable
mesaage of President Ctareia^l Mo a*d Secre-
tary Olney deserve the utmost oredH, X am
delighted that the Hou»e anil Senate roii t* fee
level of the occasion and acted, in a spirit of
broadminddd patriotism.

*' The otaenoa ot tha Monroe doctrine ia that
the European powers shall not be parmittad to
inoroaaa their territorkson ajaertoatt toll at the
expense ot independent American States. Great
Britain Is .now seeking to do tats very thing at
tha expanse of Vanavuela, and wa could not
, submit to it without; loaa of national self-
respect

" People talk of ralytoff upon England's honor
and falroindadnaei aa a auficiant guarantee
that. aha ;wiU notjwrong Venezuela. I hat*
never shared tha popular dislike of &n*Wmd,
but I have also nersr shared in thoaa delusions
about her which, though not [ popular, arf in
some quarters faahionable.l England never lata
a consideration of abstract right or morality
interfere with tha chance for her national air*
grandiaamant or maroantile gain.

41 I earnest!/ hopa that neither tha Chamber
of Commerce nor any other body of reputable
citiaani will do anything that can even be con-
strued into a failure to support to the fullest
extent the American aide of the pending ques-
tion. And I would like to aay right here .that
the talk of British fleets ransoming American
cities is too foolish to ma for serious considera-
tion. American cities may possibly be bom-
barded, but no rannorn will be paid for them.

44 It is infinitely better to see the cities laid
level tnan to see a dollar paid to any foreign
foe to buy their safety. Moreover, a great
many of our friends, in speaking of our naval
weakness, seem to forget that we wiU settle |ho
Venezuela questlon,not in Venezue lafror yet 0*
the sea coast, but in Canada. Wo might suffer
a check or two at first, but in time, and that a
very snort time, Canada would Huroly be oon-
quered and, once wrested from England, it
would never be restored.

" I hope • there will be no backdown. We
should stand right up to the portion we nave
taken. No consideration, personal, political or
financial, should influence any of our people.
We should stand right behind the President and
Congress and demand that the position we have
assumed shall be kept atr ull hazard*. We
earnestly hope that there will bo no war, but
far worse than any war would be a peace pur-
chased at the coat of any loea of national self-
respect."

ROOSEVELT THREATENS ENGLAND

In a statement on the Venezuela dispute, he said
that if England dared to attack the United States,
America would march into Canada and occupy it.

THE VENEZUELAN BOUNDARY DISPUTE

When, in 1886, Great Britain declared that some
23,000 square miles of territory containing valuable
mineral deposits belonged to the British colony of
Guiana and not the South American republic of
Venezuela, war between England and Venezuela
seemed to be in the making. As the Monroe Doc-
trine of 1823 had guaranteed the integrity of the
Latin- American republics, the United States was not
willing to allow Great Britain to use armed inter-
vention in the Western Hemisphere.

266

At the request of Venezuela, America offered to
arbitrate, but Lord Salisbury, the head of the
English government, rejected the offer.

In July 1895 Secretary of State Richard Olney
sent a sharply worded note to the English govern-
ment, telling Salisbury that the United States "is
practically a sovereign on this continent, and its fiat
is law upon the subjects to which it confines its
interposition," so it would "resist any sequestration
of Venezuelan soil by Great Britain." As Lord Salis-
bury was unbending, President Cleveland sent

another message to Congress suggesting an American
commission which should hand down a decision on
the boundary issue. Congress followed Cleveland's
proposal and appropriated $100,000 for the expenses
of such commission. Lord Salisbury, realizing that
the United States would not soften its attitude,
changed the tune and declared his willingness to
submit the boundary claim to arbitration. On
October 3, 1899, a tribunal which assembled at Paris
settled the dispute, on the whole favorably for Great
Britain.

267

THE NEW YORK POLICE BOARD

The board had four members— two of them, Avery
D. Andrews and Andrew D. Parker, were Democrats;
the other two, Theodore Roosevelt and Frederick D.
Grant, the son of President Grant, were Republicans.
Roosevelt took office the first week in May 1895;
a few days later he wrote to his sister: "I have never
worked harder than in these last six days; and it is
very worrying and harassing, for I have to deal with
three colleagues, solve terribly difficult problems,
and do my work under hampering laws. If the
Legislature will only give us power to remove our

subordinates without appeal to the courts I know we
can make a thorough and radical reform; without
such power we can improve matters a great deal,
but we cannot do what we ought to do. But I am
absorbed in the work and am very glad I came on.
It is well worth doing. So far I get on well with my
three colleagues. I have rarely left the office until
six in the evenings."

Soon it seemed to the public that the police board
had only one member — picturesque, flamboyant,
energetic, never-resting, thirty-six-year-old Theodore
Roosevelt, battling with police corruption.

268

CHAPTER XX

POLICE COMMISSIONER

In April 1895, after William L. Strong, a reform-minded businessman,
became mayor of New York, Roosevelt was named president of the city's four-
man Police Board, or Police Commissioner, as the post was popularly called.

The job was no easy one. "It is absolutely impossible to do what is expected
of me," he confided to his sister. "The conditions will not allow it. I must make
up my mind to much criticism and disappointment." There was no denying
that corruption under Tammany's auspices was rampant and that much of it
centered in the Police Department. Appointments to the force, and promotions
as well, were paid for in cash. Gambling houses and bordellos had virtual immu-
nity as long as the police captain of the district received his weekly bribe.

Roosevelt's tour of duty started off hopefully. Within weeks Tom Byrnes,
the superintendent of police who admitted to a personal fortune of $300,000,
was ousted despite thirty-two years of service. "We have a real police commis-
sioner," wrote Arthur Brisbane in the New York World. "He makes our police-
men feel as the little froggies did when the stork came to rule over them."

As always, one of Roosevelt's most potent weapons for reform was publicity,
and he used it adroitly. Not content to sit at Police Headquarters on Mulberry
Street, he spent much of his time making the rounds of the outlying beats to
check up on his force in action. Most celebrated of all were his nighttime excur-
sions, which were often made in evening clothes after attending a dinner party
and in which he was usually accompanied by Jacob Riis, the reform-bent
newspaper reporter whose book How the Other Half Lives had first awakened
Roosevelt to the New York tenement problem some years earlier. Often they
would prowl the streets till dawn, alert for oolicemen who had strayed off their
beats, had fallen asleep on duty, or had committed some even greater offense;
and often they watched a policeman's truculence suddenly transformed into
stammering apologies when the victim realized that he was talking to the police
commissioner rather than to an over-inquisitive private citizen. On one occa-
sion, the newspapers related, Roosevelt came upon a thirsty policeman quaffing
a glass of beer at the door of a saloon and immediately gave chase, catching
the miscreant by the scruff of the neck half a block away and ordering him to
stand trial the following day. The work, he told his sister happily, was "emi-
nently practical; it has not a touch of the academic."

The analogy between these nocturnal exploits and the legends of the prowl-
ing caliph of Baghdad quickly earned the commissioner the nickname of
Haroun al Roosevelt among reporters. It also earned him high praise from their
newspapers, and, indeed, from newspapers throughout the nation. Although

269

his wide-brimmed hat and prominent molars were commonly pictured by car-
toonists as the most dreaded of sights for any pavement-pounding policeman
in New York, he commanded the respect of many if not most of the abler and
more honest men on the force. "Hardihood and courage," he later recalled,
"were the qualities upon which we insisted and which we rewarded." Patrol-
men who distinguished themselves were repaid with promotion, and others
whose long and honorable service had gone unrewarded for want of political
connections found their path to advancement no longer blocked. Roosevelt
was bringing the first glimmerings of a merit system to the New York police.

Despite the initial and substantial victories, however, the new commissioner's
popularity began to fade within a year of his arrival at Mulberry Street. The
cause of the eclipse, ironically, was his determination to enforce a law about
which he was not enthusiastic and which he felt must be enforced only because
laxity was breeding corruption.

The law in question required that all saloons remain closed on Sunday —
and in practice it was honored only in the breach, for any saloon that wished
to pay the police for the privilege was allowed to receive Sabbath-day custom-
ers at the back door without interference. Roosevelt was no prohibitionist, but
he was determined to stamp out this source of police corruption. "I shall pro-
cure the enforcement of the Sunday closing law not by spurts but by steadily
increasing rigor," he announced. "If it proves impossible to enforce it, it will
be only after the experiment of breaking many a captain of the police in the
endeavor to secure the enforcement has first been tried."

Nothing could have pleased his enemies more. The Sunday drought reduced
drunkenness, but it also deprived thousands of New Yorkers of their favorite
Sunday relaxation. Worse, it hit hardest at the poor man, because persons of
means were still free to drink on a Sunday at their clubs or have wine with
their dinners at plush hotels. In vain Roosevelt protested that he was "enforc-
ing honestly a law that hitherto has been enforced dishonestly." The politicians
and the press contended that the Sunday saloon restriction was a "blue
law" that was never intended to be enforced. Otherwise virtuous citizens made
it plain that they preferred their Sunday drink to an honest police force.
"Every discredited politician, every sensational newspaper, every timid fool
who could be scared by clamor \vas against us," Roosevelt recalled.

The protests took different forms. Many New Yorkers crossed the Hudson to
do their Sunday drinking unmolested in New Jersey. There were indignant
protest meetings at which the appointment of a new commissioner was de-
manded. In the German section the citizenry staged a protest parade but
made the mistake of inviting Roosevelt, who attended and all but stole the
show with his good-humored performance. When a Tammany man protested
that "the law should be enforced, but with intelligence and discrimination,"
Roosevelt replied: "That is a good deal like believing in truthful mendacity."
By the end of 1895, Roosevelt was admitting to Henry Cabot Lodge that "I
have not one New York City newspaper or one New York City politician on my
side" and that "Whitelaw Reid was given orders that in the Tribune I am not

270

to be mentioned save to attack me, unless it is unavoidable/' But he added:
"I shall continue absolutely unmoved on my present course and shall accept
philosophically whatever violent end may be put to my political career."

In the end the Sunday drinking issue was settled by a compliant city magis-
trate who ruled that drinking was permissible with meals and that any food
whatever comprised a meal, which, as Roosevelt complained, meant that eat-
ing one pretzel could entitle a man to seventeen beers.

By this time, however, the commissioner's enemies were attacking on other
fronts. At the behest of Tammany, members of the force had started trying to
make Roosevelt look ridiculous by invoking long-forgotten blue laws at the
expense of Sunday purveyors of flowers, shoe shines, and ice cream sodas.
Rumors were started that ice could no longer be sold on the Sabbath, and the
New York World fabricated a harrowing story about a woman whose child had
died because ice was unobtainable. When, early in 1896, Roosevelt sent a let-
ter to President Cleveland commending his strong stand on Venezuela, the
hard-pressed Chief Executive thanked him by return mail and closed with a
masterpiece of understatement. "It seems to me," said Cleveland, "that you
and I have both been a little misunderstood lately."

The misunderstandings on Mulberry Street were scarcely less frequent as
the year progressed. Enforcement of the Sunday laws brought the already
tense relationships within the four-member police board close to the breaking
point. The constant bickering was "doing more to depress than elevate the
tone of the force," said Dr. Parkhurst. Nor was the situation helped when the
board had to face a host of new problems caused by the so-called Raines Law,
a state act which sought to tighten regulations governing Sunday drinking in
hotels by defining a hotel as a building with a dining room and at least ten
bedrooms. Within the year some 2000 new "hotels" sprang up in the city —
many of them saloons which merely partitioned off ten bedrooms upstairs to
meet the requirement for Sunday drinking and then, adding insult to injury,
used the bedrooms for prostitution.

By the time this crisis arose, however, Roosevelt's attention was being in-
creasingly focused on the national political scene. In July of 1896 he offered
his services to the political wirepuller Mark Hanna, whom he found "well-
meaning" but "shrewd and hard-headed," and in the fall he was sent out as a
principal stump speaker to some of the wavering sections of the Middle West.
Although Roosevelt in later years was to embrace many of the "radical" ideas
championed by the Democrats in 1896, he felt a deep and instinctive con-
tempt for William Jennings Bryan and his Populist followers at the time. He
campaigned with enthusiasm for William McKinley, the Republican candi-
date, and likened Bryan to Jefferson Davis and to the leaders of the reign of
terror in the French Revolution.

The Republican campaign against Bryan and free silver brought fruit.
William McKinley was elected by an overwhelming majority. The victory
rewarded Roosevelt with the post of Assistant Secretary of the Navy.

271

HOW THE RICH LIVED. A party at the home of Mrs. Frank Leslie, the four-times-
married "Empress of Journalism." Her Thursday-evening receptions were a New York
social institution. Mrs. Leslie loved men because "they are the spice of the earth," and she
loved diamonds because "there is imprisoned in the heart of the diamond — a soul." Her extra-
marital affairs and her extravagant jewelry — one necklace contained three thousand diamonds
—were the talk of the town. When she died, she left $1,000,000 to further women's suffrage.

THE JAPANESE ROOM in William Henry Van-
derbilt's mansion on Fifth Avenue. The building of
the palace cost an estimated $1,750,000, the interior
decorations — executed by 600 artisans — another
$800,000. A contemporary journalist, in awe of all
this splendor, wrote in Collier's: "The Vanderbilts
have come nobly forward and shown the world how
millionaires ought to live." They certainly did. And
the world — admitted to the art gallery of the man-
sion on Thursdays — gasped at the collected treasures,
admired the seven paintings by the French artist
Meissonier for which Vanderbilt had paid $188,000.

HOW THE POOR LIVED. A dark alley between tenement houses in New York, the
playground of the children of the poor, a breeding ground for typhoid fever and crime.
The congestion in the teeming tenements of the lower East Side was estimated at 330,000
persons per square mile. Here Russian and Poli *h Jews, who came to America to escape
the pogroms of their native lands, crammed the buildings from garret to cellar. An investi-
gating commission found that in some rooms there lived as many as fourteen human beings.

SWEATSHOP IN THE TENEMENTS. Here
people ate, slept and worked; here sick adults,
healthy adults, sick children, healthy children lived
together in close quarters. A French visitor wrote
about it saying that one could "hardly endure the
air of these shops, where the odor of ill-cared bodies
mingled with the odor of spoiled food." For making
a dozen pairs of children's trousers, a man was paid
$.75; if he worked from dawn to nightfall he could
make eighteen trousers (and this only if he was not
losing more than one half hour for his meals and
rest). Thus, on a good day, he earned all of $1.12.

NEW YORK IN THE NINETIES

A metropolis, one of the largest cities in the world,
and yet somewhat provincial. A city of wealth and
a city of the poor. Part of it as Irish as Dublin, part
of it as Jewish as Lemberg, part of it as Hungarian
as Budapest, and some of it as Italian as Naples.

Women wore their skirts to the ground, sweeping
the pavement as they walked. Young men with in-
comes of $5,000 or more lived in luxurious bachelor
apartments — sitting room, bedroom, bathroom —
paying $1,000 to $1,200 rent for a year, which
included heat, light, and maid service.

Elegant homes were furnished in oriental fashion.
Society followed the fad of Turkish divans, brass
coffee trays, Moorish bric-a-brac, heavy hangings,
and soft rugs. Some of the apartments had an atmos-
phere much more like the harems of Eastern
potentates than homes of New Yorkers.

HANSOM CABS AT MADISON SQUARE

A GREAT DEPARTMENT STORE IN ITS YOU!

;> .- *' **« \ £"•»'

LOVERS' LANE
IN CENTRAL PARK

275

ROOSEVELT UPHOLDS THE LAW, a cartoon
by Thomas Nast in Harper's Weekly. "Last Sunday I
spent in town with Jacob Riis," reported he to
Cabot Lodge, "driving and walking about for nine
hours to see for ourselves exactly how the Excise Law
was enforced. I had no idea how complete our suc-
cess was; not four percent of the saloons were open
and these were doing business with the greatest
secrecy and to a most limited extent. We have
really won a great triumph so far ... The World
?nd Journal nearly have epilepsy over me; and they
are united in portraying me as spending my
Sundays heavily in the Union League Club."
Roosevelt was not a prohibitionist, but he saw
that the violation of the Excise Law led to extortion
by the police. And as he proceeded with the enforce-
ment, his zeal and enthusiasm grew.

** •>» '<

fJ^^V* ', ?/'!{,' '-4^7

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^&,\i««t %v V' k

FIFTH AVENUE and corner Fifty-ninth Street in
1895, at the time Roosevelt was police commissioner
of the city. The streets were still quiet and New
Yorkers were not yet in a hurry. They strolled
leisurely along the Avenue, dressed in their best
clothes. One could still cross the Square without
fear of coming to harm from the traffic.

277

THE VIRTUOUS POLICE COMMISSIONER,

as caricatured in the New York Herald by C. G. Bush.
Father Knickerbocker — peeved because the law
which forbade saloonkeepers to sell liquor on Sunday

was for the first time being strictly enforced — reminds
Roosevelt of Shakespeare's lines: "Art any more than
a steward? Dost thou think, because thou art virtu-
ous, there shall be no more cakes and ale?"

THE DEFENDER OF THE LAW

After Roosevelt began his drive against the saloons
which disregarded the law forbidding the sales of
liquor on Sunday, he encountered the animosity of
all those who could not obtain their Sunday drink.
The Germans and the Irish were particularly vocif-
erous in their opposition. They resented the curtail-
ments of their small pleasures. They failed to see
how the strict enforcement of the Excise Law would
help police reforms; they regarded it as an intrusion
in their personal liberties, and turned against Police
Commissioner Roosevelt, whom they held responsible
for the outrage.

He became a target for cartoonists, a butt for
criticizing newspaper writers.

278

MULBERRY STREET, where
police headquarters — a gloomy
building with underground dun-
geons— was located. From here
Police Commissioner Theodore Roo-
sevelt set out to watch for policemen
who were taking it easy on duty,
who were drinking in saloons, or
who received bribes from street-
walkers. Because of his nightly
prowlings, reporters called him
"Roosevelt-al-Raschid." He had
great fun roaming around the city
and had fascinating adventures, even
though each trip meant "going forty
hours at a stretch without any sleep."

"THE CHAMBER OF HORRORS." A cartoon by Bush in the New York Herald, Sep-
tember 1895, showing the prominent figures of the Police Department. The first figure on
the left is Police Commissioner Roosevelt, holding his three colleagues — Andrews, Grant,
Parker — under his arm while his foot is pressing down on the bottle. The third figure from
the left is "Easy Boss"Platt with Edward Lauterbach, his willing mouthpiece in city affairs.

279

THE PRESIDENTIAL CAMPAIGN OF 1896

William McKinley, the Republican candidate, stayed
at home in Canton, Ohio, where he addressed his
supporters from the front porch of his house with

pleasant, pious platitudes. Supported by the busi-
ness and financial interests, who were steadfastly for
a solid gold-backed currency, he won the election
with 271 electoral votes against his opponent's 176.

THE DEMOCRATIC CANDIDATE, William Jennings Bryan, pleaded
for silver coinage at a ratio of sixteen ounces of silver to one ounce of gold.
Supported by western farmers and mining interests, he argued for a reduc-
tion in value of the dollar so mortgages could be repaid in cheaper money.

280

CHAPTER XXI

ASSISTANT SECRETARY OF

THE NAVY

"There is one thing I would like to have, but there is no chance of my getting
it. McKinley will never give it to me. I should like to be Assistant Secretary of
the Navy." Thus spoke Roosevelt to his friend Maria Longworth Storer. Yet,
President McKinley had hardly begun his term when he appointed Roosevelt
to the post.

Before he received the appointment Roosevelt promised to be a faithful
subordinate to the Secretary of the Navy, the courteous and gentlemanly
John D. Long; but with the nation's steadily worsening relations with Spain,
he found that to keep his pledge was more than difficult.

His sympathy, like the sympathy of most Americans at the time, was with the
downtrodden Cubans, who were in rebellion against their corrupt and despotic
Spanish overlords. Though the American attitude toward the Cuban people was
based mainly on humanitarian motives, other, and less idealistic, considerations
helped push the United States down the road to war. One was economic; our
trade with Cuba, amounting to more than $100,000,000 in 1893, was badly
disrupted by the insurrection. Another was geo-political; we felt an increasing
need to control the Caribbean area, both to provide bases for a growing Navy
and to protect the approaches to what already appeared to be the ordained
site of an Isthmian canal linking the Atlantic and Pacific oceans. And still
another one was the relentless propaganda campaign of the popular press. Led
by Pulitzer's New York World and Hearst's New York Journal, a steady diet of
Cuban atrocity stories was served to the unsuspecting public, recounting the
inhumanities of General Weyler, the Spanish commander who herded thou-
sands of non-combatant Cubans into concentration camps. The campaign for
"Cuba Libre!" and the reports on the cruelty of "Butcher Weyler" increased
circulation, thus more and more lurid tales were printed, selling more news-
papers and fomenting the war spirit against Spain.

Like President Cleveland before him, McKinley held that the United States
should remain neutral. This was not the opinion of the Assistant Secretary of
the Navy. Theodore Roosevelt, convinced that the United States must fight
Spain, divided his energies between trying to swing others in the adminis-
tration to his belief and doing his utmost to bring the Navy up to maximum
strength. Secretary Long said: "His ardor sometimes went faster than the
President or the department approved."

It was less than three months after he took up his duties in the Navy De-
partment that Roosevelt delivered at the Naval War College an address that

281

summed up his views on military preparedness — views similar to those he had
first suggested in his History of the Naval War of 1812. "Cowardice in a race, as
in an individual," he said, "is the unpardonable sin, and a wilful failure
to prepare for danger may in its effects be as bad as cowardice. The timid man
who cannot fight and the selfish, shortsighted or foolish man who will not take
the steps that will enable him to fight, stand on almost the same plane."
He went on to state that diplomacy is "utterly useless" without force behind it,
and that "the diplomat is the servant, not the master, of the soldier." And he
concluded that "no national life is worth having if the nation is not willing,
when the need shall arise, to stake everything on the supreme arbitrament of
war, and to pour out its blood, its treasures, its tears like water rather than to
submit to the loss of honor and renown." Roosevelt's speech was widely praised.
The highly critical Washington Post commented: "Well done, nobly spoken!
Theodore Roosevelt, you have found your proper place at last — all hail!"

Throughout the summer of 1897 he fought tirelessly for bigger naval ap-
propriations, convinced that war would soon come. By September he was
eagerly planning the strategy, suggesting to Secretary Long that in the
event of hostilities the main fleet should converge on Cuba while a flying
squadron should attack the coast of Spain itself. Two months later, in a letter
to Navy Commander Kimball, he declared that he would welcome hostilities
with Spain not only for humanitarian reasons but also because of "the benefit
done to our people by giving them something to think about which isn't
material gain, and especially the benefit done our military forces by try-
ing both the Army and Navy in actual practice."

By this time the Spanish government in Madrid was thoroughly alarmed
by the bellicose attitude of America. General Weyler was recalled, and pro-
posals for Cuban home rule were offered; President McKinley, his hopes for
peace revived, asked that Spain "be given a reasonable chance" to reform her
policies. Early in February of 1898, however, events took another turn for the
worse when an indiscreet letter written by Enrique de Lome, the Spanish
Minister in Washington, was intercepted by a Cuban revolutionary agent and
turned over to the New York Journal. The letter described President McKinley
as being "weak and a bidder for the admiration of the crowd, besides being a
would-be politician who tries to leave a door open behind himself while keep-
ing on good terms with the jingoes in his party." The yellow press raged.

Then, at 1:30 on the morning of February 16, 1898, Secretary Long was
awakened to read a dispatch that smashed to bits any possibility of reconcilia-
tion with Spain. The battleship Maine, riding at anchor in Havana Harbor,
had been blown up and sunk with the loss of 260 lives. Whether the tragedy
was plotted by the Spaniards, whether it was the work of Cuban provocateurs,
or whether it resulted from an internal explosion has never been determined,
but the well-nigh universal assumption in America at the time was that the
Spanish government was guilty. The war fever was rising, and the yellow press
redoubled its efforts to fan the flames of jingoism.

The President and his Cabinet were still for peace. Roosevelt urged war.

282

"Being a jingo," he wrote to a friend the day after the Maine disaster, "I will
say, to relieve my feelings, that I would give anything if President McKinley
would order the fleet to Havana tomorrow." And he said that the Maine "was
sunk by an act of dirty treachery on the part of the Spaniards," although he
had no evidence that this was the fact. A few days later, hearing that a group
in Congress was suggesting curtailment of the battleship construction pro-
gram, he told Long that such a decision "would mean that we have reached
the last pitch of national cowardice and baseness."

Such pronouncements did not soothe Long's worries about his assistant. On
February 25, when he took a day's rest away from the office, he sent Roosevelt a
personal note of instruction not to take "any step affecting the policy of the
administration without consulting the President or me." He could have
written his instruction in the sand. On that very day Roosevelt sent a cable to
Commodore Dewey, the commander of the Asiatic Squadron, ordering him
to "Keep full of coal" and in the event of war "to see that the Spanish Squadron
does not leave the Asiatic coast," and take up "offensive operations in the
Philippine Islands." Thus, when the Secretary of the Navy returned to
his office the next day, he was faced with an accomplished fact. Long noted in
his diary that Roosevelt "in his precipitate way has come very near causing
more of an explosion than happened to the Maine" adding: "It shows how the
best fellow in the world — and with splendid capacities — is worse than no use
if he lacks a cool head and discrimination."

Through the month of March, McKinley continued to resist the demand
for war. Such shilly-shallying made Roosevelt desperate about the President,
who, in his opinion, had "no more backbone than a chocolate eclair." To his
brother-in-law, Captain Cowles, Roosevelt wrote that "I have advised the
President in the presence of his Cabinet, as well as Judge Day and Senator
Hanna, as strongly as I knew how, to settle this matter instantly by armed in-
tervention." And when Mark Hanna, at a Gridiron Club dinner, pointed out
the heavy human and material costs of war, the Assistant Secretary of
the Navy retorted: "We will have this war for the freedom of Cuba, Senator
Hanna, in spite of the timidity of the commercial interests."

Roosevelt's fears that war would be averted proved groundless. On March
28 a board of inquiry report attributing the Maine disaster to a submarine mine
was submitted to Congress, and the national war cry of "Remember the
Maine!" reverberated all over the land. Meanwhile the Spanish government
made frantic efforts to avoid the clash of arms. On April 9 it suspended hostil-
ities against the Cuban rebels, and the American Minister in Spain reported
to President McKinley that the issue could be settled through peaceful means.

But it was too late. McKinley did not possess the moral strength to resist
the demand for armed intervention. On April 1 1 he sent his war message to a
wildly cheering Congress. Roosevelt was elated; the war he sought had finally
come. Within days he resigned his post, ordered a uniform, half a dozen pairs
of spectacles, and some horses, and was off to join the Rough Riders.

283

ASSISTANT SECRETARY OF THE NAVY. It was not easy for Roosevelt to obtain the
coveted appointment. President McKinley, who declared that "there will be no jingo non-
sense under my administration," was hesitant to name him to the post. When Bellamy
Storer, a mutual friend, went to see McKinley on Roosevelt's behalf, McKinley said: "I
want peace, and I am told that your friend Theodore ... is always getting into rows with
everybody. I am afraid he is too pugnacious."

Senator Cabot Lodge, the faithful friend, worked tirelessly on Roosevelt's behalf in
Washington, using all his influence. He wrote Roosevelt that "the only thing I can hear
adverse is that there is a fear that you will want to fight somebody at once." When Lodge
told his friend that John Long, the Secretary of the Navy, was not against his becoming
the Assistant Secretary of the Navy, Roosevelt promised that he would work hard and "stay
at Washington hot weather or any weather, whenever he wants me to stay there, and go
wherever he sends me, and my aim should be solely to make his administration a success."
There was one last obstacle — Thomas Collier Platt, the boss of the New York political
machine. Lodge advised Roosevelt to see the old man. "He wants really more than any-
thing else to feel that you are not shoved in over his head and that your idea in going there
is not to make war on him." Platt was ready to support Roosevelt's appointment if it "was
not charged to him or New York." He was happy to help him go to Washington and thus
rid New York of the obnoxious and troublesome police commissioner. In the first week of
April, Cabot Lodge wired his friend that the appointment would be forthcoming and
Roosevelt replied with pleasure: "Sinbad has evidently landed the old man of the sea."

284

As you will see by the heading of this

letter, I am now Assistant Secretary of the

/uc**/W£~> *~ f»~ r*«++*
Navy. Cabot Lodge^got me in, though the

New York machine vigorously opposed me.
My chief, Secretary Long, is a perfect dear,
and I think his views of foreign policy
would entirely meet your approval. I see
a good deal of Proctor, who is a trump, as
ever. I am staying with the Lodges.
Mrs. Lodge looks so well. All this winter
I have seen a great deal of Bob. I am now
mourn ine the fact that during this summer
I shall hardly be at all with Mrs. Roose-
velt and the children, but I greatly enjoy
the work here. During my two years as
police commisslonor I think I may say I
accomplished a great deal, but gradually

things have so shaped themselves that I
couldn't do anything more.

Ooodbyt; and do eome here and see us
seme time*

Always yours,

Mr. Oeell Spring Rice,
British embassy,

Berlin, Germany.

A NOTE TO AN OLD FRIEND, written April 27,1897, about his appointment. Cecil
Spring-Rice, the British diplomat who had been Roosevelt's best man at his London wedding
to Edith Carow in 1886, was now attached to Great Britain's Embassy in Berlin, Germany.

THE FAMILY

More than in being a public servant,
he took pride in being a devoted
husband and a good father. He loved
his children, and the children
adored him. In letters to family and
friends, Roosevelt constantly referred
to them and their doings.

Besides Alice, the daughter from
his first marriage, there were now
four more: Theodore, Jr. (with
glasses), born on September 13,
1887; Kermit, born October 10,
1889; Ethel, born August 13, 1891
(both on Mrs. Roosevelt's lap), and
Archibald (held by his father),
born April 9, 1894. Quentin was
not born until November 19, 1897.

285

May 3, 1897.
Captain A. T. Vahan, U. S. N.f

160 West tighty-slxth Street,

Naw York City, If. Y.
My dear Captain Mahan:

This latter must, of

course, be considered as entirely confi-
dential, because in my position I an merely
carrying out the polity of the Secretary
and the President. I suppose I need not

tell you that as regards Hawaii I tafce your
views absolutely, as indeed I do on foreiga
policy generally. If I had my way we would
annex those islands tomorrow. If that is
impossible I would establish a protectorate

th<*.T. i b*li«"te we should build ths
fflciure\gi4*ii canal Htonoa, ui4 in tht neon time
that *e should bull! a 6oean now battle
ah Ip*. half Of thmn on 4.he Pacific Coast;
ami those tatUt ahlp«* should have large
c>au capacity and it eonaa^vent Increased
radlua of ac-tion. I am fully alivt to tht
danger from Japan, and I Know that it ia
l&Le to rsly on any seatimental good will
toward* us. I think President Cleveland's
action was & colossal crime, and *%c should
be guilty of aiding him after the fuct if
we do not reverse what he did* I earnestly
hope we can m&Jca the President look at
things our way. Last Saturday night Lodge
pr+tsed his views upon him with all his

A REMARKABLE LETTER, published here in
Facsimile for the first time, reveals Roosevelt's
thoughts on America's role in world affairs.

The letter went to Captain Alfred Thayer Mahan,
(1840-1914) America's most influential advocate of
sea power. Roosevelt, sharing Mahan's views on
naval expansion, first wrote to him in 1890 when
Mahan published The Influence of Sea Power Upon
History, 1660-1783, "the clearest and most instructive
general work of its kind."

When the Senate hesitated to approve the Hawai-
ian annexation treaty, Roosevelt communicated with
Mahan (December 9, 1897): "It seems incredible
that such shortsighted folly should obtain among
our public men, but it does. If we refuse these
islands, then I honestly hope England will take
them, if only to bring back to our people the knowl-
edge of their folly." And in another letter (December
14, 1897) Roosevelt told Mahan that he was sharing
his bitter feelings, "but I take a grim consolation in
thinking that we have acted quite as foolishly
during the past hundred years as we possibly can
act now, and yet we have lived through trial after
trial and so we shall continue to do. At any rate
your creed and mine is and must be, resolute to do
our best to stand by our country to the utmost of
our power, and to accept whatever comes."

Admiral Beardslee quit* the man for tht situation out
thert, but Captain Barker, of the ORXOON, Is, I be-
lieve, excellent in point of decisions, willingness
to accept responsibility, and thorough knowledge ef
the situation. But there are big problem in the West
Indies alao. Until we definitely turn Spain out of
those islands (and if I hud my way that would be done
tomorrow), we will always he Menaced by trouble there.
We should acquire the Danish Islands, and by turning
Spain out should serve notice that no strong turopean
power, and especially not Germany, should be allowed
to gain a foothold by supplanting SOBS weak European
power. I do not foar Ingland; Canada, is a hostage
for her good bohavior; but I de fear some of the otker

286

owers. I am extremely sorry to say that
here is some slight appearance here of the
esire to stop building up the Navy until
iur finances are better. Tom Reed, to my
Astonishment and indignation, takes this
lew, and even my chief f who is one of the
tost high-minded; honorable and upright
jer.tlemen I have ever had the good fortune
;o serve under, is a little inclined toward
It.

I need not say that this letter must
3* strictly private. I speak to you with
the greatest freedom, for I sympathise with
/our views, and I have precisely the same
Idea of patriotism, and of belief in and
li;ve for our country. But to no one else
excepting Lodge do I talk like this.

As regards Hawaii X am delighted to be
able to tell you that Secretary tang shares
our views* He believes we should take the
islands, and I have just been preparing
some memoranda for him to use at the Cabinet
meeting tomorrow. If only ve had acme good
man in the place of John Sherman as Secre-
tary of State there would not be a hitch,
and even as it IB I hope for favorable ac-
tion. I have been pressing upon the Secre-
tory, and through him on the President, that
we ought to act now without delay, before
Japan gets her two new battle ships which
are now ready for delivery to her in England,
tven a fortnight may make a difference.
With Hawaii onoe in our hands most of the
danger of friction with Japan would disappear.

strength. I *a*a ••en a^Ulha matter* in «hap» *•
tht ptairic e*Mt jtut »i feat * ,1 ha** U*n alltwaf.
My OVA btlirf it that re afcoula eVtt luHftftDy Mtore
the two new Japamaaa «*nhl»» lee** atojUAPtt I
tend ihe OUTGO*, 4 tit, if n«*eae>ary» *!••> 1M
(either with a deck luad of cotl of &cca*$iftt»4 1} H
coaling ship) to Hawaii, and ffouli hotel «yr /Ing ov«r
the island, l«HT*ni al] deuile far tft»» 49ttQ4\« I
ahall pr«aa thaaa views upon my «M»f jtVrt It faf la
he will let »e , more I cannot do.

A* reg*rdt what you a«\y in your leue,r, there ^
only one point to whieh 1 would teJ(*> exception, I
fully rn&llie the limanae lap or tine* of ifet Pacific
coaat. Strictly betr-ean ounelven, I do *t\ think

Toe 5toratary tlao btlJtvet in bulldioc the 11
oanaa as s •ilittry «i«»«ra, althoegh X doa«t

knov that ha la M dacidatf on thlt point AS you snd X
are; and ha bellava* is bwildln^'ahipa OB tht r^eifie
slope.

Tomra,

*f i .r* // « " \ i

THE EXPLOSION OF THE MAINE. On February 15, 1898,
the United States battleship Maine, while pn a "friendly visit"
in Havana harbor, blew up. Though the cause of the tragedy
(taking the lives of 258 crewmen and two officers) could never
be determined, American public opinion put the blame squarely
on the Spanish government.

All over the country the cry went up "Remember the Maine,"
and the cry grew in intensity as Congress hesitated to declare
war. But the pressure was so great that within two months the
United States and Spain were engaged in conflict. Discussing
the explosion, Woodrow Wilson asserted that war came "not
because a vessel of the American Navy had been destroyed in
a port of Spain, but because opinion leaped upon the provoca-
tion of that tragic incident from quiet inquiry to hot impatience
with regard to all the ugly Cuban business. ... It was a war of
impulse, as any one might see who had noted how unprepared
the country was for what it had suddenly undertaken."

288

ON FEBRUARY 17, 1898, the >«r-
nal printed over a million copies.

1 /A 3 V) 6^r * >^y

W. RANDOLPH HEARST— "THE YELLOW KID"

The owner of the New York Journal wanted to outsell The
World, owned by Joseph Pulitzer. Whatever Pulitzer tried — if it
proved successful — Hearst tried also. After The World started a
comic strip with a bald-headed, flap-eared kid in a yellow
nightgown, Hearst lured away Outcault, the originator of the
cartoons, so the Journal, too, had its yellow kid. To increase
circulation, the rival owners used every means in the trade:
sensationalism, murder, love stories and jingoism.

Hearst sent a bevy of correspondents to Cuba to report on
the atrocities of the Spaniards in words and in pictures. When
the artist Frederic Remington asked his boss to allow him to
return home, since war did not seem to be materializing, Hearst
wired him: "You furnish the pictures and I'll furnish the war."

ON FEBRUARY 18, 1898, this was
the front page of Hearst's paper.

289

NAVY DEPARTMENT,

WASHINGTON,

February 85, 1690.

These are trying times. In the evening Roo»eveit,
who* I had left as Acting Secretary during the afternoon,
came around. Ho it no enthusiastic and loyal that he if.
ih certain reepects, invaluable, ytt I ucX confidence
in hi* good Judgment >and discretion. He go<-» off v*r>

impulsively «ndf If I have a good night tonight, 1 shall
f«tl that I ought to be back In the Departmer,* ruthtr tha-
'

tak* A day 'a vacation.

' V?.

', tjjjrp ' ).&& ,

••****' V. ,

A MOMENTOUS DECISION. On the afternoon
of February 25, 1898, while Secretary Long was
away from the office, Roosevelt as Acting Secretary
of the Navy, sent this cable to Admiral Dewey, the
head of the Asiatic Squadron: "Order the Squadron
except Monocacy to Hong Kong. Keep full of coal.
In the event of declaration war Spain, your duty will
be to see that the Spanish squadron does not leave
the Asiatic coast and then offensive operations in
Philippine Islands. Keep Olympia until further
orders." The same evening — as is evident from
Long's private diary — Roosevelt must have told his
superior what he had done; and while Secretary Long
lacked confidence in his assistant's "good judgment
and discretion," he did not revoke the order.

Washington. D. C.t Saturday, February £6th, 1696.

I had a ap lend 11 night last night, and return to the
of flee, Both becauee I feel ao much batter, and because
during my abort abeence I find that Roosevelt, lit hit
precipitate wmy, has com very near causing more of ait e«-
ploaion than happened to the Maine. Hia wife is very ill
his little boy is just recovering from a long and danger-

oua illness, so that his natural nervousness is so much

I
accentuated that I really think he is hardly fit to be

entrusted with the responsibility of the Department at
this critical time. Ha is full of suggestions; many of
which are of great value to B», and his spirited and
forceful habit Is a rood tonic for one who is disposed to
be as conservative and careful as I am. He m<>aiis to he
thoroughly loyal, but the very devil seamed to possess
him yesterday afternoon. Having the authority for that
time of Acting Secretary, ha immediate .ly be fan to launch
peremptory orders, distributing ships, order lug ammunl-

tMTV*

tloii, which there is no meatrs to aa«M, to places where
there is no swans to store It; Bending for Captain

Barker to come on about the guns of the Vesuvius, whJrh
is a matter that might hav* bean perfectly arranged by
correspondence; a«n1inc nenpfcge? to Congrenc for inrn*-
dinte legit] at l.m, author-king the eniittment of an un-
limited number of *»amen, and orrifcring guns from tn«
Havy Yard at Washington to New York, with A vimr to arm-
ing auxiliary cruisers which «r« now in peucftful comrcer-
eial pursuit. The only effect of this last order would
be to take guns which are now carefully Ftorwd, ready for

shipment any moment, and which couio be shipped *»t#*» t** &.«.

t»^* 7» ** t

laey eauW psseMijy •» put vn aity vevsel, and ^u dumt- them

in the open weathor^n the K^w York Havy Yard, where the/
would ba only in the way and under no proper care. He has
gone at things like a bull in a china shop, autl with the
best purposes in the world, has rwally taken what, if re
could have thought, he would not have for a moment have
taken, an* that it the out c ours* which is Ttottt rtis-

enurttidus to me, because it suggests that there had been

fa
a lack of attent ton which he was supplying* «**•* chows

how the best follow in the world ftttfl with splendid oa-
pacUle* is worn<» than of no us* if h« luck a cool head
•tut careful discretion.

TWO PAGES from Secretary Long's private diary Roosevelt ordered Admiral Dewey to be ready for
written on February 26, 1898, a day after Theodore war. (Publication by courtesy of Dr. Margaret Long.)

290

SECRETARY LONG IGNORES
REPORTERS AS HE ENTERS
THE NAVY BUILDING

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ROOSEVELT'S DIARY. The entry on April 16, nine days before Congress voted its
war resolution against Spain reads: "The President still feebly is painfully trying for
peace. His weakness and vacillation are even more ludicrous than painful. Long is at last
awake; and anyway I have the Navy in good shape. But the army is awful. The War Dept.
is in utter confusion. Alger has no force whatever, & no knowledge of his department. But
he wishes war, at least. Miles is merely a brave peacock. They both told me they could put
100,000 men in Tampa in 24 hours! The folly, & lack of preparation, are almost incon-
ceivable. Reed, backed by Cannon and Boutelle, is malignantly bent on preventing all
preparation for war, so far as he can. I really believe that if it does come, he wishes it to be
a failure." Roosevelt was strongly critical of President McKinley, who in his opinion had
"no more backbone than a chocolate eclair." He was impatient, thinking the Cuban prob-
lem could not be solved through peaceful means. Roosevelt urged quick and decisive
action — no more political dillydallying, but a firm and unequivocal stand — in other words, war.

292

Washington, D. C.f Monday April 25th, 1896.

My Assistant Secretary, Roosevolt, has determined upon
resigning, in order to so into the army and take part
in the war. He has been of great use; a man of unbounded
energy and force, and thoroughly honest, which is the main
thing. He has lost his head to this unutterable folly of
deserting the post where he is of most service and running
off to ride a horse and, probably, brush mosquitoes from his

neck on the Florida sands. His heart is right, and he
means well, but it is ont of those cases of aberration-
desertion - vain-glory; of which ha is utterly unaware.
He thinks he is following his highest Ideal, whereas, in
fact, as without exception every one of his friends ad-
vises him, ha is acting like a fool. And, yet, how absurd
all this will sound if, by some turn of fortune, he should
accomplish some great thing and strike a vary high mark.

"" - »

"ROOSEVELT WAS RIGHT" reads the handwritten postscript in Secretary Long's diary;
"we his friends were all wrong. His going into the army led straight to the Presidency."
(This first reproduction of the revealing diary is by courtesy of Secretary Long's daughter.)

293

SO,

Brooks Brothers*

Twenty -second 8t.li Broadway, Iff* York.

Can you rnnke nw» so 1 shall haw It hare by aext Satur-
day a blue cravermftt rsfular 11 eutenwt - colonel's vnifom
without yellow oa dollar, and with leggtnfaf If no Mfc« it*

CHAPTER XXII

ROUGH RIDER

"While I think I could face death with dignity," wrote Roosevelt to his friend
Dr. W. Sturgis Bigelow on March 29, 1898, "I have no desire before my time
has come to go out into the everlasting darkness ... So I shall not go into a
war with any undue exhilaration of spirits or in a frame of mind in any way
approaching recklessness or levity. . . . One of the commonest taunts directed
at men like myself is that we are armchair and parlor jingoes who wish to see
others do what we only advocate doing. I care very little for such a taunt, ex-
cept as it affects my usefulness, but I cannot afford to disregard the fact that
my power for good, whatever it may be, would be gone if I didn't try to live
up to the doctrines I have tried to preach."

And though his friends warned that to relinquish his post in the Navy
Department might mean the end of his political career, Roosevelt's ears were
deaf to such warnings. Determined to prove himself as a soldier on the battle-
field, he left his wife — who has just recovered from an operation — he left his
children, he left his political career.

Congress had authorized the recruitment of three volunteer cavalry regi-
ments in the states and territories of the West and Southwest. General Russell
A. Alger, the Secretary of War, was ready to put the Assistant Secretary of the
Navy at the head of one of the regiments, but Roosevelt declined the honor,
proposing that his friend Leonard Wood, a young Army surgeon, should be
given the command, while he was content with the rank of a lieutenant colonel.

Within a few days the outfit that came to be known as the Rough Riders was
formed — the most extraordinary fighting force ever assembled in America.
From the ranches and outposts of the West came hard-riding cowboys, iron-
tough gamblers, and recruits whose relations with the law were strained
at best. From the fashionable centers of the East came adventurous college boys,
polo players, Long Island fox hunters. By the spit-and-polish standards of the
regular Army it was a motley and ill-disciplined regiment. But the men were
physically tough; they were good shots and good horsemen; they were eager
to fight. And while they were training in San Antonio, Texas, the first spectac-
ular victory of the war was won in the Philippines by Commodore Dewey —
thanks in no small measure to the state of readiness he had assumed on Roose-
velt's orders. Dewey left Hong Kong with his squadron and on the night of
April 30 slipped into Manila Bay, where the Spanish fleet lay at anchor. At
dawn he closed in to a range of two and one half miles before issuing his
famous order: "You may fire when ready, Gridley." Five times his ships passed
the Spanish fleet, raking it with gunfire; and when the order was given

295
THE BEGINNING OF THE WAR

FOR THEODORE ROOSEVELT

to "draw off for breakfast," the backbone of Spanish resistance had been broken.

By the end of May, Roosevelt and his regiment moved on to the embarkation
point of Tampa, Florida, where Roosevelt enjoyed a four-day visit from his
wife and caused consternation among the regular Army officers by dining at
the hotel with non-commissioned officers.

On June 22 the Rough Riders — sans their horses — landed in Cuba at the
village of Daiquiri, near Santiago on the island's southerly tip. Two days later,
advancing through a thick jungle in mountainous terrain at Las Gudsimas,
they had their baptism of fire. Though the skirmish was brief, Richard Har-
ding Davis, the correspondent who accompanied the regiment, termed it "the
hottest, hastiest fight I ever imagined." Sixteen Rough Riders lost their lives,
another fifty were wounded.

But it was on July 1 and 2, at San Juan Hill just outside Santiago, that the
Rough Riders endured their greatest test with the capture of the Spanish
entrenchments at the summit of the hill. Roosevelt referred to that day at San
Juan as "the greatest day of my life," and surely it was. Mounted on horse-
back so his men could see him, he led the infantry charge under heavy fire
and held the newly captured entrenchments against all Spanish counter-
attacks. When the smoke of the battle cleared, fifteen out of the five hundred
Rough Riders were dead and seventy-three were wounded — a higher casualty
rate than was suffered by any other regiment during the entire Spanish-
American War.

Still, though the infantry fought hard, the war was not decided by their
bravery. It was the Navy who delivered the final blow, it was the Navy who
won the decisive battle. In mid-May the main Spanish fleet, under Admiral
Cervera, had taken refuge in Santiago Harbor, where it was bottled up by an
American fleet under Admiral Sampson. With the American land forces ap-
proaching Santiago, Cervera made a dash for the open sea. It was a disastrous
decision. The ramshackle Spanish boats were sitting ducks for the American
Navy. Though American marksmanship was pitifully poor, within hours the
Spanish fleet was annihilated.

That the United States won the war was a miracle. The inefficiency of the
War Department's planning was incredible: for want of khaki clothing, the
troops fought in heavy winteri uniforms during a tropical summer; supply
services were so mismanaged that the soldiers in the combat area were not
only ill-equipped but ill-fed; sanitation in the camps was so primitive that
disease killed thirteen times as many men as enemy bullets. What saved the
day was not American efficiency but the incompetence of the Spaniards, whose
Navy was untrained and who used only a minute fraction of the 200,000 troops
they assembled in Cuba.

Roosevelt, who after San Juan Hill was promoted to a colonelcy, raged
against the War Department's bungling. In his diary, before leaving Tampa
for Cuba, he complained that "there is no head, no energy, no intelligence in
the War Department," and he warned Senator Lodge that "military disaster"
might result if adequate food and supplies were not made quickly available
to the troops.

296

By mid-July, when Santiago surrendered, an alarming wave of yellow fever
began taking a heavy toll among the American troops. The medical officers
wanted to move the soldiers from the unsanitary camp to a northern climate,
but the War Department insisted that they should be left in Cuba for the
summer. Roosevelt, by tacit agreement with General Shafter, composed a
letter of complaint, which Shafter turned over to an Associated Press corres-
pondent. Other division and brigade commanders signed a "Round Robin"
to the War Department, demanding the removal of the Army from Cuba.
Thus, when at last the troops were allowed to return to the States, Roosevelt
was given the main credit for it and hailed as a national hero.

Before Roosevelt and the Rough Riders were shipped north, Spain signed a
preliminary peace treaty on terms dictated by President McKinley, though
protesting that "this demand strips us of the very last memory of a glorious
past." In October formal negotiations began in Paris, with America repre-
sented by a five-man commission that included Undersecretary of State Day
and editor Whitelaw Reid of the New York Tribune. The treaty granted Cuba
independence, and Spain assumed Cuba's debt of 400 million dollars; Puerto
Rico and Guam were ceded to the United States; the Philippine Islands were
annexed ("to educate the Filipinos and uplift and Christianize them"). The
taking of the Philippines, which consequently forced us to wage a war in the
islands against the natives was bitterly opposed by such anti-imperialists as
Bryan, Godkin, Carl Schurz, and Mark Twain, but the party in power felt
that it was America's destiny to rule over the Philippines.

The signing of the Treaty of Paris marked our emergence as a world power.
The old sense of isolation was gone; we were now committed to rely on our
own Navy rather than England's to enforce the Monroe Doctrine, and we
were educated by our military mistakes into creating an adequate standing
Army with a permanent general staff.

The Spanish- American War was the most popular in our history. "It has
been a splendid little war," wrote John Hay to Roosevelt, "begun with the
highest motives, carried on with magnificent intelligence and spirit, favored
by that Fortune which loves the brave." Hay's words expressed the feeling of
all America. It was a victorious war of only a few weeks, covering the fighters
with glory, and with less than three hundred combat casualties to pay for it.

To Roosevelt the war had been a glorious adventure, a vindication of his
physical courage and his abilities as a leader, and he made no great effort to
conceal his pride. "I do not want to be vain," he had written Senator Lodge
from Cuba, "but I do not think anyone else could have handled this regiment
quite as I have." Later, when he wrote a book about himself and the Rough
Riders, Finley Peter Dunne's Mr. Dooley read it thoughtfully and concluded:
"If I was him I'd call th' book 'Alone in Cubia.'" As alternative titles
Mr. Dooley suggested "Th' Biography iv a Hero be Wan who Knows" or <cTh'
Darin' Exploits iv a Brave Man be an Actual Eye- Witness." But however much
the humorists joked about him, the battle of San Juan Hill made Roosevelt one
of the most popular men in America.

297

THE DAY WAR BEGAN: IN CUBA. The sun shines and it is pleasant to stroll after the
5. work wUh the girl one loves. The thought of war seems far away; in peacetime ,t is
hard to imagine what war is like. But within the island the guerrillas were fightmg savage
within the island Spanish soldiers at the behest of their superiors were killing
Cubam-^thin he island thousands and thousands were herded into dreaded concentration
££T*± ruled with heavy hand over her dependency; Cuba was de-ota* wi*a
quarter of the population exterminated, while those who were hvuig -ufaed *« d ^a*
and starvation. How to improve such conditions? The answer was: by war. So war it was.

298

THE DAY WAR BEGAN: IN NEW YORK. Fifth Avenue is peaceful on this April
morning. The sun shines and it is pleasant to stroll down the street with the girl one loves.
The thought of war seems far away; in peacetime it is so hard to imagine what war is like.
But already the Navy had sailed to Cuba to blockade its port, and Congress had voted for
President McKinley's war resolution. The American people became war-minded — the
sensation-loving newspapers, the business community, the conservatives, and the reformers
demanded the punishment of Spain. "Save the downtrodden Cubans from their Spanish
oppressors," cried the headlines. How to do it? The answer was: by war. So war it was.

299

"YOU MAY FIRE WHEN READY, GRIDLEY," ordered Admiral Dewey at nineteen
minutes to six on the morning of May 1, 1898, after his fleet had passed the silent guns of
Corregidor and sneaked inside the harbor of Manila. Soon the guns of the warships were
blazing; soon the Spanish fleet lay prostrate in the bay. Roosevelt, who as Assistant Secre-
tary of the Navy had ordered Dewey to be ready for war, was elated by the victory. The
battle of Manila Bay elevated the United States to one of the great naval powers of the world.

THE ASIATIC SQUADRON

commanded by Admiral George
Dewey, in battle formation. The
American fleet entered Manila
Bay under cover of darkness and
smashed the Spanish ships in a
short encounter. The people back
home recited:

Oh, dewy was the morning
Upon the fast of May
And Dewey was the admiral
Down in Manila Bay.

300

ADMIRAL DEWEY'S DIARY

on May 1, 1898, the day he de-
feated the Spanish fleet at Manila.

301

OFF TO THE WAR. After Congress declared war, the President called for 125,000 men.
The youth of the country flocked to the colors; war was still a romantic escapade, a heroic
dream. Theodore Roosevelt, too, pined for adventure; he was impatient to sail to Cuba
and free the suppressed Cubans from their Spanish overlords. "It will be awful," he wrote
in a letter (excerpt reproduced on the right page), "if the game is over before we get into it."

302

THE ROUGH RIDERS, under Colonel Leonard
Wood and Lieutenant Colonel Theodore Roosevelt
(at the head of the troops), were the first volunteer
regiment organized, armed, and equipped for the
Spanish-American War. From the ranches and out-
posts of the West came hard-riding cowboys and iron-
tough gamblers; from the East came college boys
and polo players thirsting for adventure. It was a
motley crew at first, but with a remarkable esprit de
corps and with a deep affection for their leaders. "I
suppose every man tends to brag about his regiment,"

LUNCHEON AT SAN ANTONIO.

wrote Roosevelt later, "but it does seem to me that
there never was a regiment better worth bragging
about than ours."

After leaving the Navy Department in the first
week of May, Roosevelt joined the regiment in San
Antonio, Texas, where the Rough Riders received
their training. The men drilled, but what a bore it
was! They had joined the army to fight, not to exer-
cise on the parade ground. They wanted to go to
war; they wanted to be heroes but there was
nothing heroic, nothing romantic in San Antonio.

The regiment was better outfitted for the hot
climate in the brown canvas fatigue uniform of the
cavalry than were the regulars, who had to wear
woolens more suited for the arctic regions. However,
they were still uncomfortable, and they complained
and grumbled. One hot afternoon after Roosevelt
had drilled a squadron, the men got so thirsty that
their commander bought beer for them. In the eve-
ning Colonel Wood reprimanded Roosevelt, who
agreed with him. "You are right, sir! I consider myself
the damnedest ass within ten miles of this camp."

305

THE BIRTH OF A HERO

If a ship could be sunk in the narrow part of the
channel leading to Santiago, the Spanish fleet would
be bottled up inside the harbor, unable to escape; at
the same time, the obstacle would keep other Spanish
warships — particularly the Pelayo — from entering the
harbor and bringing help to the ships in distress.

Admiral Sampson, who conceived this idea, dis-
patched Lieutenant Richmond Pearson Hobson, an
assistant naval constructor, and seven other volun-
teers on the old collier Merrimac to accomplish the
feat. Hobson planned to steam past Morro Castle,
then turn his vessel crosswise, drop anchor, and ex-
plode it with ten torpedoes.

At three-thirty in the morning of June 3 the small
group set out on their dangerous mission and reached
the harbor's entrance not long thereafter. By then

the steering gear of their ship had been shot away
by the Spanish shore batteries. Desperately, Hobson
tried to sink his helpless vessel, but as only two of
the torpedoes could be exploded, the Merrimac drifted
straight down the channel. When at last it sank —
aided by hits from the guns on land — it went down
in the wrong spot, leaving the entrance to Santiago
Harbor still free.

Hobson and the volunteers left their ship, jumping
into the water, where they floated holding onto their
life raft. At dawn a Spanish steam launch came out
to rescue them, with Admiral Cervera, the com-
mander of the Spanish fleet, himself giving a hand
in pulling them into the boat. They were made pris-
oners of war, and Hobson — like Lieutenant Rowan
who carried the celebrated message to Garcia, the
Cuban insurgent leader — became a national hero.

BLOCKING THE HARBOR

After the battle of Santiago, in which the American fleet caused havoc to its adversaries,
the Spaniards in Santiago Harbor hit on the same idea as Admiral Sampson's a few days
before. They, too, wanted to block the harbor entrance, their aim now to keep the
American fleet outside. The attempt was made with the three-thousand-ton cruiser Reina
Mercedes — but, like the Merrimac, it sank outside the channel, leaving the entrance free.

FAREWELL SERMON AT TAMPA. Before their embarkation to Cuba, Chaplain Brown
addresses the troops. Standing by the trees in the background are Major Dunn, General
Wheeler, Lieutenant Colonel Roosevelt, and Colonel Wood.

The troops were happy to leave Tampa. They had no proper accommodations, as no
effort had been made to set up a camp there. They simply formed in lines — a row of tents
and a row of horses at their picket lines. Some who had money took rooms in the Tampa
Bay Hotel, the rest slept on the ground — what wet ground it was — plagued by flies, taran-
tulas, and centipedes. Many of them contracted typhoid and typhus-malaria, many of
them so sick that — instead of going to Cuba — they were sent to hospitals or back home.

308

GETTING TO THE WAR WAS NO EASY MATTER. "We were up the entire night
standing by the railway track at Tampa, hoping for trains that did not come. At dawn we
were shifted to another railway track, and then owing to some energetic work of Wood and
myself succeeded in getting the troops on empty coal cars, on which we came down the
wharf," wrote Roosevelt. On arrival, the Rough Riders found the wharf jammed and all
in a "higgledly-piggledly" state. The quartermaster general allotted them a transport but
"advised us to seize her instantly if we hoped to keep her." While Wood requisitioned a
ship, Roosevelt with four hundred men took possession of it uin the very nick of time to
head off the 71st regiment, which was also advancing for the purpose."

THE ROUGH RIDERS ON THE YUCATAN. Utter confusion marked the embarka-
tion of the troops at Tampa. Ships which should have carried 750 men were filled w.th
twice that number. A soldier chalked on the side of the boat: "Standing room only, to
which another added, "And damned little of that." Roosevelt wrote: "We arc m a sewer.

310

THE DIARY OF ROOSEVELT while he and his men waited in Tampa to be shipped to
Cuba reveals the abysmally poor planning of the expedition. Its most recurrent word is
"confusion."

The entry on June 5 says: "No words can paint the confusion. No head; a breakdown of
both the railroad and military systems of the country. Miles partly to blame also."
On June 8: "Worst confusion yet. ... No allotment of transports; no plans."
On June 9 the troops embarked. Packed on board were 15,058 enlisted men, 8 19. officers,
and some additional clerks, teamsters, packers, and stevedores, along with 2,295 horses and
mules, 114 six-mule army wagons, but only seven ambulances. For days the transports—on
order of the War Department— remained in the harbor, a delay Roosevelt considered "very
bad for men." Not until June 14 did they set sail. The situation was aptly summed up
by a general who commented: "This is God Almighty's war, and we are only His agents."

311

THE BATTLEFIELD OF THE WAR.

On May 25 the American fleet reached the shores
of Cuba. The Spanish fleet, under the command of
Admiral Cervera, was inside Santiago Harbor.

On June 1 Admiral Sampson arrived with the
New York and the Oregon and took a position opposite
the harbor's entrance, placing his ships in a semi-
circle, watching the channel day and night.

On June 3 Lieutenant Hobson was given orders

to sink the Merrimac in view of the Spanish batteries
at Morro Castle and Socapa.

On June 22 the first six thousand American troops
landed at Daiquiri (on the far left), fifteen miles
from Santiago. Next day they marched into Siboney
and established the main American base. On June
24 the first land battle of the war was fought at Las
Guasimas. After a fearful engagement the Spaniards
retreated toward Santiago. General Wheeler, the

312

yi^mKi^-- ' "m^mi

^E^S;s4^ll^^'':1v'^'r''' //"&'

former Confederate leader, who was in command,
shouted excitedly: "We've got the Yankees on the
run," forgetting that he was not fighting the Civil
War but the Spaniards.

The engagement at Las Gudsimas was followed
between July 1 and 3 by the twin battles of El Caney
and San Juan Hill. The way to Santiago was clear.

On July 3 the American Navy decisively defeated
the Spanish fleet as it attempted to escape from

Santiago Harbor. 'The fleet under my command
offers the nation, as a Fourth of July present, the
whole of Cervera's fleet," read Admiral Sampson's
announcement.

On July 3 General Shafter— the head of the
American armed forces in Cuba— asked General
Toral for the surrender of the Spanish land forces.
On July 17, after a truce, the Spanish army officially
surrendered, and the war was over.

313

THE BATTLE OF SAN JUAN HILL. Richard Harding Davis, the celebrated war cor-
respondent, vividly recounted the charge. He wrote that the Rough Riders "had no glitter-
ing bayonets, they were not massed in regular array. There were a few men in advance,
bunched together, and creeping up a steep, sunny hill, the top of which roared and
flashed with flame It was more wonderful than any swinging charge could have been."

314

REACHING THE TOP OF SAN JUAN HILL, as pictured by Frederic Remington.
After the capture of the blockhouse, Roosevelt called on his men to charge the next line of
Spaniards, who ran before them. "When we reached the trenches we found them filled
with dead bodies in the light blue and white uniforms of the Spanish regular army."

REINFORCEMENTS. A day

after the battle of San Juan Hill,
the much-needed reinforcements
arrived to hold the thin line. The
9th Massachusetts and 34th
Michigan regiments were rushed
to the front and dug in. "We
have won so far at a heavy cost,"
wrote Roosevelt, "but the Span-
iards fight very hard and charg-
ing their intrenchments against
modern rifles is terrible." The
success of the battle brought
advancement to the leaders.
Wood became brigadier general,
Roosevelt was made a colonel.

315

ROOSEVELT'S ENTRY in his war diary on July
1, the day of the battle of San Juan Hill. "Rose at
4. Big battle. Commanded regiment. Held extreme
front of firing line." Two days later he wrote to
Cabot Lodge: "I commanded my regiment, I think
I may say, with honor. We lost a quarter of our men
. . . how I have escaped I know not; I have not
blanket or coat; I have not taken off my shoes even; I
sleep in the drenching rain, and drink putrid water."
He was contented; he had proved himself on the
battlefield. His hat, full of holes, was draped with a
blue bandanna, shading his neck from the sun. Boots
mud-soaked, shirt bathed in sweat, he was a soldier.

AFTER THE BATTLE OF SAN JUAN HILL

Roosevelt poses with the Rough Riders on the very
spot where they fought. The picture was taken by
William Dinwiddie, one of the outstanding photog-
raphers of the Spanish- American War.

316

In the attack on the San Juan hills, the American
forces numbered 6,600 men, facing 4,500 Spaniards.
Roosevelt's Rough Riders had 490 men in the battle,
bound together by their common experience.

They were like children, proud of their accom-

plishment, and sang lustily:

"Rough, rough, we're the stuff.

We want to fight, and we can't get enough,

Whoo-pee."

317

THE LEADER OF THE AMERICAN FORCES IN CUBA, General William R. Shatter,
was a fat, jovial man, his corpulence serving the correspondents with an easy butt for ridicule.
While en route to the war he read the account of the British expedition of 1741, which
landed at Guantanamo with 5,000 men and attempted to take Santiago. At that time Lord
Vernon, the British general (after whom Washington's Mount Vernon was named), made
the fatal mistake of ordering his men to repair the roads as they were advancing toward the
city. And though the Spanish troops offered scant opposition, two thousand of the English
"died on their feet" during the march. The expedition had to be abandoned when the rem-
nants of the disease-stricken and exhausted Britishers were still sixteen miles from Santiago.
General Shafter, keeping in mind the failure of the English campaign, was determined
to avoid the mistake of Lord Vernon. He was not impetuous; he was careful, and
his mind worked slowly. He would not be rash, he would not make a risky landing at the
entrance of Santiago Harbor as Admiral Sampson suggested, and he would not attack
Santiago until he had ample ammunition and provisions on hand. He knew that "the
campaign was a race between the physical vigor of the men and the Cuban malarial fever
that lay in wait for them." To a man of Roosevelt's temperament, such a cautious attitude
was distasteful. "Not since the campaign of Crassus against the Parthians has there been so
criminally incompetent a general as Shafter," wrote Roosevelt to Cabot Lodge after the
battle of San Juan Hill. And two days later: "It is criminal to keep Shafter in command.
He is utterly inefficient, and now he is panic struck." Roosevelt heaped his abuse on
Shafter because the general kept on negotiating with the Spaniards, because he tried to
bring an end to the war without any further fighting. In reality, Shafter— not a heroic man
— did a commendable job; without risking a single American life, he captured Santiago.

318

THEIR FIGHT IS DONE. After the Spanish army surrendered to the American forces,
the Cuban guerrillas crowded in long lines before the arsenal at Santiago, where they had
been ordered to turn in their arms. For years they had fought their oppressors, for years
they had kept the Spanish troops at bay, for years they had sacrificed themselves for the
freedom of their land. Now, with the war over, they were to return to their homes and take
up life as they had left it. They were free men now — free forever of the harsh Spanish rule.

IN THE NEWSROOM of the

White House, President McKin-
ley waits for the news from Cuba.
The Spanish-American War was
one of the shortest in history,
lasting only twenty-three days.
The first land battle at Las
Guisimas was fought on June
24; on July 15 the Spanish army
was ready to surrender.

The losses of the American
expeditionary force were no more
than 243 killed and 1,445
wounded, but more than twice
that number died after the end
of the war, of diseases which the
men had contracted in Cuba.

319

THE ROUND ROBIN OF THE OFFICERS URGED THE TROOPS' IMMEDIATE RETURN

THE ROUND ROBIN. The letter of the general
officers in Cuba, urging the return of the ailing troops.

After the surrender of Santiago a severe form of
malarial fever spread among the American expedi-
tionary force; more than four thousand men were on
the sick list. General Shafter implored the War
Department to order the army home, but the Secre-
tary of War, fearing that they would bring with
them the germ of yellow fever, replied: "The troops
must all be put in camps as comfortable as they can
be made and remain, I suppose, until the fever has
had its run." In a meeting of division and brigade
commanders and the chief medical officers, who
were unanimously for the return of the troops, Gen-
eral Shafter proposed "some authoritative publication
which would make the War Department take action
before it was too late to avert the ruin of the army."

Roosevelt — the only one among the high officers
who was to return to civilian life and therefore

could freely criticize the War Department — was the
obvious man to issue such publication. He agreed to
give an interview to the press, but General Wood
advised him to make his statement in a letter to
General Shafter. Roosevelt followed the advice and
penned a letter, which was handed then to the Asso-
ciated Press correspondent, who cabled it to America.
"To keep us here," wrote Roosevelt, "in the
opinion of every officer commanding a division or a
brigade, will simply involve the destruction of thou-
sands." He urged that with fifteen hundred cases of
malarial fever, the men should be recalled to a cooler
climate in the northern part of America. "Six weeks
on the North Maine coast," Roosevelt wrote, "where
the yellow-fever germ can not possibly propagate,
would make us all as fit as fighting-cocks, as able as
we are eager to take a leading part in the great cam-
paign against Havana in the fall, even if we are not
allowed to try Porto Rico."

320

;^^^«^'j,>vM«'*' l'.tt Xvv,t ? _±£a

SECOND AND THIRD PAGES OF THE CABLE WHICH WAS SENT TO WASHINGTON

After Roosevelt's letter was
already in the hand of the Asso-
ciated Press man, General Wood
dictated a statement in identical
terms — the celebrated Round
Robin — which was signed by
Roosevelt and seven generals.

As it happened, days before
the Secretary of War received the
officers' communication, he had
already issued orders for the re-
turn of the troops. Thus, neither
Roosevelt's letter nor the Round
Robin could have had any bearing
on his decision. Still, in the mind
of the public it was Colonel
Roosevelt who was instrumental
in getting the boys home — a feat
which increased his popularity.

321

THE END OF WAR IN PUERTO RICO

The campaign lasted only two weeks; it consisted of six skirmishes, in which only four
Americans were killed and forty wounded. On August 13 the hostilities came to an end.

THE TAKING OF WAKE ISLAND

The American flag was raised on Wake
Island on July 4, 1898, by General F. V.
Greene and a small landing party. A
special correspondent for Harper's Weekly,
who accompanied the expedition on the
China, described the coral atoll as a bar-
ren waste stretching along for twenty
miles, "with an oblong lagoon, cut from
the sea by shallow reefs, over which the
waves constantly break, eating their way
into the heart of the island. A dreary,
sun-beaten spot — " And he mused: "Per-
haps this heretofore unclaimed island may
some day be used as a telegraph post, or
even a coaling station. It lies well on the
way to Manila and therefore has been vis-
ited only by a few exploring expeditors."

322

THE ANNEXATION OF HAWAII. U. S. Minister Sewall presenting to President Dole,
at the Palace, Honolulu, an official copy of the act of annexation, August 12, 1898. Imme-
diately thereafter the Hawaiian flag was hauled down and replaced by the Stars and Stripes.

THE TAKING OF THE PHILIPPINES. The

detachment of First Colorado Volunteers advancing
to attack Fort San Antonio Abad in the Philippines
on August 13, 1898.

A week before, Admiral Dewey asked the Spanish
governor general in Manila to surrender the city.
Though the reply was negative, the governor gen-
eral— in fear of the insurgents — sent word that the
Spanish troops would not offer serious resistance.

Aguinaldo, the head of the Philippine insurgents
and the self-proclaimed President of the independent
Philippine republic, demanded that his troops and
the American forces should jointly occupy the islands.

But President McKinley directed the leaders of
the American forces that there should be no joint
occupation. "The insurgents and all others must
recognize the military occupation and authority of
the United States." Thus the Spanish flag came down
and the Stars and Stripes went up over Manila.

"WE HAVE HAD A BULLY FIGHT"

Colonel Theodore Roosevelt as he landed at Mon-
tauk Point from the military transport Miami. On
the pier he perceived Mrs. John A. Logan, the
mother of a fellow officer, and he greeted her warmly.

To an officer who welcomed him, Roosevelt said:
"I am feeling disgracefully well. I feel positively
ashamed of my appearance when I see how badly
off some of my brave fellows are."

He moved with the troops to the detention camp
at Montauk Point— Camp Wikoff. Constantly in the
public eye, a national hero, he was soon visited at the
camp by New York politicians, who within days
made him the official Republican candidate for the
gubernatorial office of New York State.

HOME AT LAST. The 24th Infantry— a gallant
regiment of colored troops— marches into the Mon-
tauk camp after their triumphant return from Cuba.

8- YEAR-OLD

Dwight D. Eisenhower
at the time Theodore
Roosevelt fought in the
Spanish -American War.

13- YEAR-OLD

Harry S. Truman, as he
looked a year before the
Spanish -American War.

24-YEAR-OLD

Winston Churchill in
1898. The next year he
was a news correspond-
ent in the Boer War.

40-YEAR-OLD

Theodore Roosevelt, as
he looked in 1898 when

IN THE DETENTION CAMP AT MONTAUK

PHOTOGRAPHING THE COLONEL was the favorite pastime of the visitors who came
to the Montauk camp of the Rough Riders. And Roosevelt posed obligingly with men and
animals alike. He was the most popular man in the camp and welcome copy for newspapermen.

PRESIDENT MCKINLEY VISITED the camp at
Montauk on September 4. When he perceived Roo-
sevelt, he left his carriage and shook T. R.'s hand.

326

ADMIRING THE SNAPSHOTS. Roosevelt and
the Rough Riders were on the most cordial terms.
He called most of them by their first names.

"MY REGIMENT WILL BE MUSTERED OUT IN A FEW DAYS " wrote he to hii
Z "and then I lhall be footloose. Just at the moment there is a voc.ferous popular de-

e^^^^

327

FAREWELL TO THE ROUGH RIDERS. On September 15, 1898, the troops were
mustered out at Camp WikofT. In the morning a delegation of soldiers fetched Roosevelt to
a table outside his tent, on which was a mysterious object wrapped in an army blanket.

From the ranks stepped Will S. Murphy of M Troop and, on behalf of the troops,
presented the colonel "as a very slight token of admiration, love and esteem in which you
are held by the officers and men of your regiment, a bronco buster in bronze."

When the cheering subsided, Roosevelt made a little speech. "I am proud of this regi-
ment beyond measure," he begam. "I am proud of it because it is a typical American regi-
ment. The foundation of the regiment was the cow puncher, and we have got him here
in bronze," he continued. Then he went on:

"No gift could have been so appropriate as this bronze of Frederic Remington. The men
of the West and Southwest — horsemen, ridemen and herders of cattle — have been the back-
bone of this regiment, which demonstrates that Uncle Sam has another reserve of fighting
men to call upon if the necessity arises.

"Outside of my own immediate family ... I shall never show as strong ties as I do
toward you. I am more than pleased that you feel the same toward me."

The Rough Riders cheered, and the men who stood behind them watching the ceremony
cheered too; they belonged to the 9th and 10th colored cavalry regiments. Recognizing
them, Roosevelt complimented the colored men on their heroism. He recalled: "The Span-
iards called them 'smoked Yankees' but we found them to be an excellent breed of Yankee."

"Boys," Roosevelt said to his men as he concluded, "I am going to stand here, and I shall
esteem it a privilege if each of you will come up here. I want to shake your hands — I want
to say good-by to each one of you in person." With wet eyes, the men filed before him.

328

THEY SERVED HIM WITH THEIR PENS

Roosevelt with two of the best-known war corre-
spondents: Stephen Bonsall and Richard Harding
Davis, in whose dispatches the Colonel was always
pictured as a hero. On the right is Major Dunn.

329

TEDDY THE HERO— an imaginary painting of
the Battle of San Juan Hill in which the dashing,
galloping Roosevelt is leading his column into battle.
The painter cared little for accuracy; he disregarded
the fact that the Rough Riders had no horses in
Cuba. But pictures like this were extremely popular;
they created the hero image of Roosevelt, the fear-
less Rough Rider, making him a legendary figure.

TEDDY THE TERROR— as pictured in Life on
August 4, 1898, the very day the Round Robin tele-
gram was dispatched to the War Department.

THE RESULT
OF THE WAR

330

THE SPANISH-AMERICAN WAR molded the
United States into a colonial nation. The country's
"Manifest Destiny," enforced by its victories on the
battlefields and on the high seas, brought forth four
dependencies: Cuba, Puerto Rico, the Philippines,
and Hawaii. An embarrassed Uncle Sam is pictured

in this Puck cartoon looking at the basketful of in-
fants. "Gosh!" he cries out. "I wish they wouldn't
come quite so many in a bunch; but if I've got to
take them, I guess I can do as well by them as I've
done by the others!" The "others," dancing on the
left, are labeled Texas, California, and New Mexico.

331

THE OFFICIAL END OF THE WAR. On April 11, 1899, in President McKinley's
office, Secretary of State John Hay signed the memorandum of ratification on behalf of the
United States. A few months earlier Hay wrote to his friend Theodore Roosevelt the oft-
quoted sentence: "It has been a splendid little war, begun with the highest motives, carried
on with magnificent intelligence and spirit, favored by that fortune which loves the brave."

The peace negotiations began on July 26, 1898. On August 10 President McKinley
submitted a protocol which asked for "the evacuation of Cuba by Spain with the relin-
quishment of sovereignty, the cessidn of Porto Rico and one of the Ladrone Islands to the
United States as indemnity, and the occupation by the United States of Manila and
Manila Bay." Spain signed it on August 12.

On October 1, when the peace commission met in Paris, McKinley had no fixed plan
for the Philippines. With little help from the politicians, he turned to God. "I went down
on my knees and prayed Almighty God for light and guidance more than one night," he
said. "And one night late it came to me this way — I don't know how it was, but it came:

(1) that we could not give them back to Spain — that would be cowardly and dishonorable;

(2) that we could not turn them over to France or Germany — our commercial rivals in the
Orient — that would be bad business and discreditable; (3) that we could not leave them to
themselves — they were unfit for self-government — and they would soon have anarchy and
misrule over there worse than Spain's was; and (4) that there was nothing left for us to do
but to take them all and to educate the Filipinos, and uplift and civilize and Christianize
them, and by God's grace do the very best we could by them as our fellowmen for whom
Christ also died." In this way the Philippines became an American dependency.

On December 10 Spain signed the treaty; on February 6, 1899, the U. S. Senate ratified it.

332

CHAPTER XXIII

GOVERNOR OF NEW YORK

In the summer of 1898, Senator Thomas Collier Platt, the all-powerful
Republican boss of New York State, was faced with a grave dilemma. He had
to decide on a candidate for the New York governorship, and he had none.
He would have liked to see the renomination of Governor Frank S. Black, but
he knew that Black could not be re-elected; his extravagant administration of
the state's canal system had caused such an outcry that his chances for win-
ning the election were poor. Platt had to find a new candidate.

The name which reached him most frequently and for which there was a
real popular clamor was that of Theodore Roosevelt, the Colonel of the Rough
Riders, the hero of San Juan Hill.

Chauncey M. Depew, President of the New York Central Railroad and
influential figure in New York politics, told Platt: "If you nominated Gover-
nor Black, and I am addressing a large audience — and I certainly will — the
heckler in the audience will arise and interrupt me saying: 'Chauncey, we all
agree with you about the Grand Old Party and all that, but how about the
canal steal?' I have to explain that the amount stolen was only a million, and
that would be fatal. But if Colonel Roosevelt is the candidate I can say to the
heckler with indignation and enthusiasm: 'I am mighty glad you asked that
question. We have nominated for governor a man who has demonstrated in
public office and on the battlefield that he is a fighter for the right and
is always victorious. If he is elected you know and we all know from his dem-
onstrated characteristics — courage and ability — that every thief will be caught
and punished, and every dollar that can be found will be restored to the public
treasury.' Then I will follow the colonel leading his Rough Riders up San
Juan Hill and ask the band to play 'The Star-Spangled Banner.' "

So Plattt sent his emissary, Lemuel Ky Quigg, to see Roosevelt at his tent
at Montauk and sound him out. Quigg asked the Colonel whether he would
accept the Republican nomination for governor. Roosevelt beamed. "Would
I?" he roared. "I would be delighted." And Quigg replied: "Then count on
Senator Platt's support. Come to the Fifth Avenue Hotel and see him."

That Roosevelt should become "Platt's candidate" upset the reform element
in New York, who had expected his leadership in their fight for good govern-
ment. But Roosevelt was forever a faithful Republican; he did not leave the
party in 1884 when the Republicans chose Blaine as their presidential candi-
date, and he would not disassociate himself from Senator Platt and his party
now. Forced to decline the nomination of the independents, he turned his
back on his former political allies, soon speaking of the Reverend Dr. Park-
hurst as "that silly goose" and lumping Carl Schurz and Editor Godkin

333

together with "the idiot variety of 'Goo-Goos' " (the advocates of Good
Government).

After a strenuous campaign, in which he toured the state in his flag-
bedecked special train, Roosevelt defeated his Democratic opponent, Augustus
Van Wyck, the candidate of Tammany Hall, by the slim margin of 18,000. Thus,
at the age of forty he returned to Albany, installing himself and his family in
the governor's mansion.

Before his nomination he gave a promise to consult Platt on all appointments
and policy matters. "He religiously fulfilled this pledge," Platt said later in his
autobiography, "although he frequently did just what he pleased." Usually
the two men met over breakfast at the Fifth Avenue Hotel in New York City.
Roosevelt came down from Albany to meet the Senator at "Amen's Corner,"
the nickname for the niche reserved for Platt at the hotel. These breakfasts were
vigorously criticized as evidence of the Governor's subservience to the Senator,
but Roosevelt said: "My object was to make it as easy as possible for him to
come with me. As long as there was no clash between us there was no object
in seeing him; it was only when a clash came or was imminent that I had to
see him. A series of breakfasts was always a prelude to some active warfare."

And warfare it was from the beginning. The first run-in with Boss Platt
came when the new governor appointed his own public works commissioner
and not the man Platt had chosen for him. This — as Roosevelt recalled
— "produced an explosion." But there was a far bigger explosion several months
later when, casting about for a strong reform issue, Roosevelt championed a
twice-defeated bill to impose a special tax on public service corporations in
proportion to the value of their franchises. Since most of the big corporations
were paying the party organization for protection against just such legislation,
Platt pleaded and threatened in the strongest terms for the governor to desist.
Roosevelt would not listen. When the enraged speaker of the Assembly tore
up his message rather than read it, he followed up his first message with
a second one, forcing the Legislature to pass it.

The outraged Platt sent Roosevelt a severely critical letter. "You were a little
loose on the relations between capital and labor, on trusts and combinations,
and, indeed, on those numerous questions which have recently arisen in poli-
tics affecting the security of earnings and the right of a man to run his own
business in his own way, with due respect of course to the Ten Commandments
and the Penal Code," wrote Platt. And he accused Roosevelt that his stand
on the franchise tax had caused businessmen to "wonder how far the notions of
Populism, as laid down in Kansas and Nebraska, have taken hold upon the
Republican party of the State of New York."

Roosevelt answered the charges squarely, his reply reflecting his emerging
philosophy on the whole issue of government and business. "I do not believe
that it is wise or safe for us as a party to take refuge in mere negation and to
say that there are no evils to be corrected," he wrote. Republicans should
oppose "improper corporate influence" on the one hand while opposing the
"demagogy and mob rule" of Populism on the other. Firmly in the saddle, he
would not be subservient to Platt and the Republican machine.

334

The other major battle of the two men came early in the following year when
the Governor made it known that he would not reappoint Insurance Commis-
sioner Lou Payn, whose term was about to expire. Payn, a former lobbyist for
Jay Gould, was financially involved with some of the very companies his office
was supposed to regulate. To Platt, Payn's reappointment seemed essential; the
insurance companies under Payn's jurisdiction were the biggest customers for
the securities issued by corporations on the Republican preferred list.

Senator Platt realized that for him and his forces another gubernatorial
term of Roosevelt would be disastrous. In two more years the headstrong
Rough Rider could virtually destroy the state's Republican machine. The idea
presented itself: why not "kick him upstairs" to the Vice Presidency where he
could do no harm to the party and where his name and fame would be an asset?

To achieve this two obstacles had to be overcome. One was the reluctance
of Roosevelt himself, who had no desire to be put on the shelf. He told Platt:
"The more I have thought it over the more I have felt that I would a great
deal rather be anything, say a professor of history, than vice president." The
other difficulty was the unwillingness of Mark Hanna, the top leader of the
party, to put the name of "that crazy cowboy" on the Republican ticket.

But by the time the Republican convention opened in Philadelphia, there
was such an overwhelming demand for Roosevelt's nomination that both
Hanna and Roosevelt had to acquiesce to the wishes of the delegates. Thus
Roosevelt was nominated by acclamation despite Hanna's angry warning that
there would now be "only one life between this madman and the White House."

Henry Cabot Lodge, who had been confident from the first that the Vice
Presidency would lead to "more important things," had assured his friend that
"the way to make a precedent is to break one." Still Roosevelt felt that the
Vice Presidency marked the end of his political career.

Nonetheless, he pitched into the campaign with his usual extraordinary
vigor, his appetite for the fight greatly whetted by the fact that the Democrats
had renominated William Jennings Bryan on a platform denouncing the
"imperialism growing out of the Spanish War." Before -he romplrtpri his tour,
he had traveled more than 21,000 miles on his special train, had made a thou-
sand speeches, and had been seen or heard by more than three million people.
"Tis Tiddy alone that's runnin'," observe i Mr. Dooley, "an' he ain't a-runnin',
he's gallopin'."

The contest was won by the Me Kinley- Roosevelt ticket, with an 849,000
plurality, the largest Republican victory in more than a quarter century. Boss
Platt could breathe easily — his unmanageable governor was removed to
Washington, and for a long time — if not forever — was relegated to the political
graveyard. Or so he thought.

335

CAMPAIGNING FOR THE GOVERNORSHIP

"I am not having an entirely pleasant campaign/'
wrote Roosevelt to Cabot Lodge. "I may win yet,
and I am going in to do everything that can be done.'1
He toured the state in a flag-bedecked train, escorted
by Rough Riders and heralded by buglers. Stumping

the state relentlessly, he spoke on national issues and
told his audiences that a vote against Republicans
would be a vote against "the flag we fought for this
summer." Still, things went badly until a remark of
Tammany boss Richard Croker served him with a
good campaign issue. Croker refused to support the

336

TROUBLES ABOUT TAXES, As Roosevelt had
signed two affidavits to avoid payment of taxes, one
in Oyster Bay, the other in New York City, lawfully
he was ineligible for the New York governorship.

MIAIW

renomination of a Supreme Court Justice because
that man showed "undue independence" and no
consideration for Tammany Hall. It was a clear
attack on the nonpartisan judiciary, and the angered
electorate voted against the Tammany candidate,
Augustus Van Wyck. Thus, Roosevelt was elected.

THE POWER BEHIND THE THRONE-

Senator Thomas C. Platt— -who, from his home at
49 Broadway, "ruled" the state of New York.

337

THE GOVERNOR OF NEW YORK riding in the Dewey celebration. Admiral Dewey,
the hero of Manila Bay, was given a tumultuous welcome by the New Yorkers, but the
Rough Rider hero of San Juan Hill was not neglected by the cheering audience — even if
in this photograph nobody seems to be looking at Roosevelt, who led the colorful procession
attired in a formal suit and a silk top hat, dignified, solemn, looking every inch a governor.

338

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With

THE FIRST MENTION OF THE BIG STICK. In a letter to Henry L. Sprague, who
served with him in the New York Assembly, Roosevelt wrote on January 26, 1900: "I have
always been fond of the West African proverb: 'Speak softly and carry a big stick; you will
go far.' " The phrase later became a Roosevelt trade-mark; he was drawn with the big stick
in hundreds of cartoons, and people referred to his "big stick" policies.

Roosevelt used the proverb in connection with the celebrated Payn affair. Louis F. Payn
had been Superintendent of Insurance. When his term came to a close, Roosevelt would
not reappoint him. But to Boss Platt, Payn's rcappointment seemed essential; the insurance
companies under Payn's jurisdiction were the biggest customers for the securities issued by
corporations on the Republican preferred list, and Payn was thus a needed link between
business and politics. Platt threatened Roosevelt with political destruction if he denied
Payn's reappointment; still Roosevelt would not yield. In his eyes Payn was involved in
dishonest practices when, out of a seven -thousand-dollar-a-year salary, he "saved enough
to enable him to borrow nearly half a million dollars from a trust company, the directors
of which are also the directors of an insurance company" under his supervision.

On the night before the governor was to send in the name of his own candidate, Francis
Hendricks, to the Senate for confirmation, a Platt lieutenant met with him at the Union
League Club for a final appeal. Roosevelt declined. "You know it means your ruin," said
the man. "Well, we'll see about that," replied Roosevelt. "You understand the fight will
begin tomorrow and will be carried on to the bitter end," continued the agent. By then
Roosevelt had started for the door. "Hold on!" said the agent. "We accept. The senator is
very sorry, but he will make no further opposition." And Roosevelt later recalled in his
Autobiography: "I never saw a bluff carried more resolutely through to the final limit."

339

STRUGGLE BETWEEN PLATT AND ROOSEVELT

"HANDS OFF, TOMMY! I'll do the driving," THE BULL TEDDY gores toreador Platt in this

exclaims Governor Roosevelt in this New York Herald C. G. Bush cartoon of the World. Boss Platt, with

cartoon, when Senator Thomas Platt — the New York whom Roosevelt constantly clashed on legislative

political boss— attempts to take over the reins from and patronage matters of the state, cries out: "Peace

his hands. Roosevelt would not be thwarted. is beautiful but visionary! It is not for this age."

SVENGALI PLATT hypnotizes Roosevelt in this
Davenport cartoon of the Journal. "He wept with
delight when Platt gave him a smile, and trembled
with fear at his frown," reads the caption, alluding
to the demoniac Svengali in Du Maurier's Trilby.

"THE EASY BOSS." In this C. G. Bush cartoon
of the New York World, Platt leads the reluctant
governor into the corporation paddock after Roo-
sevelt called an extra session of the legislature to deal
with the controversial franchise tax on corporations.

340

WILL HE

OR
WONT HE?

ROOSEVELT SAYS "NO"

Platt and other New York party leaders, in
their desire to ease Roosevelt out of the
gubernatorial chair, proposed that he be
"kicked upstairs" and made a vice-presi-
dential candidate. Roosevelt, fighting against
their move, issued the statement printed
on the right on February 13, 1900.

» He M.»e>mliMUe« ffe>r a«T*ra*r. ,
'rnor Rooaevelt ha* been at^onlahed at
I'omlwr of lettera and telefframa he hM
"«l from Kentucky and the South.
MM* him (or hla expreaalon of good wilt

The olerka of the dtpartmant tl

ed a lovtnv cup to Mr. Payn. Ha addreaaad
to them a latter In which TM thanked them
and aatd that he wai gratifled to lay down hU
work to a man "ao eminently qualified in
every wa.v."

ROOSEVELT'S EMPHATIC "NOI"

Governor Makes the Definite Announcement That

under No Circumstances Win He Accept the

Nomination for the Vice residency.

AMUNT. Monday.-Oovarnor Booaavtlt cave out to-day tbto statement relative
to th« Vie* Preeldency:-

"In view of the continued atatamenta In the preai that I mar be urged aa a
candidate for Vice President, and In view of the. many lettera that r*ach DM
•dvlalng for and acalnat auoh a courae, H la proper for ma to atate definitely that
under no olrcumatancea could 1 or would Z accept the nomination for tha Vice
Presidency.

"It la needleaa to aay hew deeply I anpreeitte th* honor «onfarrad upon ne
hy tht merr dealre to place me to ao hujh and dtcnift^l a portion, but it aaww
to me clear that at tba preaant time my duty la her* in tha Kate whoa* people
thoM me to he Governor, dreat problem* have been faced and are being partly
t»lved in thla Mate at thla time, and If the people ao dealre I hope that the work
thui be* un I may help carry to a eucoeaaful conclusion."

Uovernor RooMvalt. In g\r\ng out hia atatamaat. wUd^'I am happy to atate
the t Senator Platt cordially aoQulaaoea in my view* In the matter."

A^rll 23rd, 1900.

Dear Cabot: —

I H«r,d you the Inc lowed a« a sample of the litorully
hujidT-rrt« of let tor* that I an receiving. All nor friend* in the
W«8t *e«- t« b" hoatl^to my taking the vloe presidential nomlration.

By tha way, ! did not aay that I would not under any oircun-
ntanoM accept the vioe T<re8l.,toncy. I have been careful *.o put it
exactly as you ^H£^*

Always your«t

Hon. H. C.

9«nat^ Chamber,

Washington, D.o.

P. B. Since writing the abore the letter fron Proctor cane which
1 also *Kvl to you. I find also that Silas Wright refuse* the nonln»-
ation of Vioe President on the ticket with ?oix afte^ he had been
nominated, cane back and ran for Governor and was elected by a
larger majority than that by thioh Polk carried the ft t ate.

I thlnr. that one feature of the present situation is overlooked
vli: that if i an now nominated for vioe president, it will be

to get it out of the heads of a nuwtwar o." people that

U'-e Machine had forced rat into it for tlieir own ninlster purpose
and that I had yi»^d*l fron weakness, ms they know I do not want
the !>onitlon of Vloo President.

HE DOES NOT SAY "NO"

Two months after Roosevelt issued
the statement that "under no
circumstances could I or would I
accept the nomination for the
Vice Presidency/' he sent a note
to Henry Cabot Lodge saying,
"I did not say that I would not
under any circumstances accept
the vice-presidency." Roosevelt
remonstrated with his friend,
who advised him to take the
vice-presidency as "it is the true
stepping stone for you either
toward the Presidency or the
Governor Generalship of the
Philippines." Roosevelt argued
that "if I am now nominated
for vice-president, it will be im-
possible to get it out of the heads
of a number of people that the
machine had forced me into it
for their own sinister purpose
and that I had yielded from
weakness, as they know I do not
want the position of Vice Pres-
ident." Yet, he accepted it.

341

A DEPRESSED ROOSEVELT sits with a gloomy
expression between Senator Thomas C. Platt and
Republican State Chairman Benjamin B. Odell at
the Republican national nominating convention in
Philadelphia. He was certain that the vice presiden-
tial nomination would end his political career.

He was in a quandary whether he should accept it
or not. His friends Nicholas Murray Butler and
Albert Shaw implored him to issue an unequivocal
statement declining it, but Roosevelt told reporters
that "if the nomination came to me by acclamation
I cannot possibly decline it." After Senator Mark

342

THOMAS C. PLATT,

the head of New York's
political machine, tried
to keep an iron grip on
Roosevelt, but when he
failed he eased him into
the vice-presidency.

H. CABOT LODGE,

Roosevelt's most faithful
and intimate friend, re-
garded him as presiden-
tial timber therefore
urged him to accept the
vice-presidential post.

Hanna had an hour-long conference with Roosevelt,
he was asked: "Do you think Roosevelt wants the
nomination?" and Hanna replied: "Well, I don't
know. He knows how he can stop it." But Mrs. Roo-
sevelt, overheard by reporters, pleaded with her
husband: "Now, don't say anything."

THE RELUCTANT ROOSEVELT fights in
desperation against the vice- presidential nomination.

343

THE REPUBLICANS ASSEMBLED IN PHILADELPHIA to choose their candidate for
President and Vice-President. That President McKinley would be renominated was never
in doubt. The question was who would be his running mate. Vice-President Garret A.
Hobart had died in office, and the Republicans were not of one mind about his successor.
Senator Allison and Secretary of the Interior Bliss, who were offered the nomination, had
declined to accept it.

Governor Theodore Roosevelt, one of the delegates-at-large (indicated by the arrow), was
proposed by the New York boss, Thomas C. Platt, who wanted to get rid of the unmanageable
governor and make him Vice-President. Platt, cynically supported by Matt Quay of Penn-
sylvania, fought for Roosevelt's nomination, even though the New York governor — so he
protested — was reluctant. But when Roosevelt walked into the hall holding onto his wide-
brimmed campaign hat, which so resembled the headgear of the Rough Riders, a politician
whispered to his neighbor, "That's an acceptance hat."

Mark Hanna, the dominant force in the convention, violently opposed Roosevelt. "Don't
any of you realize," he asked those who tried to persuade him, "that there's only one life
between this madman and the White House?" But as Platt was adamant in his determina-
tion to get Roosevelt out of New York, Mark Hanna had to acquiesce.

As Roosevelt rose to second McKinley 's nomination, the convention gave him a tremendous
ovation; it was oow obvious that the tide for his vice-presidency could not be stemmed.
After the event, Hanna supposedly told McKinley: "Now it is up to you to live,"

344

MARK H ANNA ADDRESSES THE DELEGATES and puts President McKinley's name
before them for renomination. The convention gave a rousing approval to his proposal. For
the Republicans, McKinley was the ideal candidate. Solid, self-assured, smug— he was the
symbol of prosperity. Thus, the Republican ticket became "William McKinley, a western
man with eastern ideas, and Theodore Roosevelt, an eastern man with western characteristics."

TWENTY THOUSAND MEN

cheered in the convention hall
when the western delegations
marched up and down the aisles,
chanting in unison: "We want
Teddy! We want Teddy." The
feeling of the delegates was so
strong, that if the bosses blocked
Roosevelt's nomination, McKin-
ley's re-election would have been
in jeopardy. Mark Hanna said
to newspapermen the night before
Roosevelt's nomination: "Boys,
you can't stop it any more than
you could stop Niagara."

345

AS THEY SAW HIM

This was how people remembered
him. This was Roosevelt, the cam-
paigner: his rimless eyeglasses with
the dangling cord, his tie awry, his
hand clutching the wide-brimmed
hat, his high-pitched voice with the
Harvard accent coining phrases
against William Jennings Bryan and
the policies of the Democrats. He
said: "The success of the party rep-
resenting the principles embodied
in the Kansas City platform would
bring about the destruction of all
the conditions necessary to the con-
tinuance of our prosperity."

The photograph was taken on
July 5, 1900, at the place where
Abraham Lincoln debated with
Stephen A. Douglas — before the
"Old Main" building of Knox Col-
lege at Gaiesburg, Illinois. The
campaign was still in an early stage.
After the Republican ticket was
chosen, Roosevelt wrote to Mark
Hanna, who masterminded the
campaign: "I am as strong as a bull
moose and you can use me up to
the limit, taking heed of but one
thing and that is my throat. Two
years ago in the New York cam-
paign 1 only managed to hold out
just barely to the end and could not
have spoken for three days longer.
Of course then I had to make some
three hundred speeches in four weeks
and carry the whole campaign on
my own shoulders, so the case is not
quite the same now. Still I do not
want my throat to give out."

346

Michigan girls at Saginaw watch Roosevelt. From Mrs. Roosevelt's campaign scrapbook.

CAMPAIGNING. Tradition frowned upon a President making stump speeches in behalf
of his re-election, thus the brunt of the campaign had to be borne by the vice- presidential
candidate. Theodore Roosevelt dove into the contest like a duck into water. The Democrats
accused President McKinley that he had aba >doned America's traditional anti-empire
policy and subjugated millions of defenseless people. Roosevelt reminded his listeners that
McKinley clearly stated in his acceptance letter that "no blow has been struck except for
liberty and humanity and none will be," and that the ten million people who had come
under the American flag were not subdued but liberated "from the yoke of imperialism."
Roosevelt told his audiences: "We are not taking a single step which in any way affects our
institutions or our traditional policies." The question was not "whether we shall expand—
for we have already expanded — but whether we shall contract."

For him, more important than the imperialist issue was "that of securing good govern-
ment and moral and material well-being within our own borders. Great though the need
is that the nation should do its work well abroad, even this comes second to the thorough
performance of duty at home." He emphasized the need for an honest and responsible gov-
ernment, a government which would keep the need of the citizens at heart.

It was an arduous campaign, and Roosevelt enjoyed the speechmaking to the hilt. He
had an intense dislike of Bryan and he blasted him with his usual vehemence. "What a thor-
ough-faced hypocrite and demagogue he is, and what a small man!" wrote he to Cabot Lodge.

349

THE REPUBLICAN CAMPAIGN POSTER boasted that McKinley was right in 1896
when he would not open up "the mints of the United States to the silver of the world." But it
neglected to say that, owing to new gold discoveries, the silver issue was no longer relevant.

350

THE ISSUES OF THE CAMPAIGN. For the Democrats the paramount issues were im-
perialism and legislation against the trusts. For the Republicans they were prosperity and
the full dinner pail. For Roosevelt—as he repeated in his speeches— they were the honor
and decency of the political leaders, a flag to be revered and respected, and, naturally, the
depravity of the Democratic opponents, who must be defeated come what may.

THE CAMPAIGN SLOGAN of

the Republicans was once again
uThe Full Dinner Pail." "Four
years more of the full dinner pail/'
screamed the posters, even though
the abundance the campaign
orators were talking about was
mostly in their imagination.
Workers earned little; the farmers
struggled against hard times.
Prosperity affected only the small
upper class. Hardly a few weeks
before the election, Mark Hanna,
with banker J. Pierpont Morgan's
help, averted a strike of the an-
thracite miners, persuading mine
owners to grant their employees
a ten-per-cent wage increase.

351

THE ROUGH RIDERS ESCORTED Theodore
Roosevelt wherever he journeyed. They lined up at
his platform, cheered him and pumped his hand, asked
him for jobs and favors, rode next to his train. Roose-
velt enjoyed such campaigning immensely. This
scene, found in Mrs. Roosevelt's campaign scrapbook
of 1900, was taken at Watertown, South Dakota.

"HIS RUNNING MATE" reads the caption under
this C. G. Bush cartoon in the New York World. To
the American public it seemed that Theodore Roo-
sevelt, who addressed meetings all over the country,
was running for the presidency rather than McKinley,
who during the entire campaign remained silent.

352

CERTAIN OF HIS ELECTION, President McKin-
ley kept away from the campaign. But he showed
himself to the people and allowed his photograph
to be taken with all the visiting delegations.

THE RESULT of the election was a thumping
victory for the Republican ticket. William McKin-
ley and Theodore Roosevelt defeated William
Jennings Bryan and Adlai G. Stevenson. (Stevenson,
the grandfather of another candidate of later times,
had previously served as Vice- President under
Grover Cleveland.) The Republicans had 7,219,525
popular votes against the Democrats' 6,358,737,
their largest plurality in twenty-eight years. In the
electoral college the McKinley-Roosevelt ticket
received 292 votes against Bryan-Stevenson's 155.

MARCH 4, 1901: The inauguration of President McKinley as he is sworn in by Chief
Justice Melville Weston Fuller. Between the two stands a somber Theodore Roosevelt. It
was not a happy day for him. For a man of Roosevelt's temperament, the vice-presidency
had little to offer. It was an office — as John Adams, the country's first Vice- President put
it— "the most insignificant . . . that ever the invention of man contrived."

If Roosevelt was in a gloomy mood, Thomas Platt, who had eased him out of the guber-
natorial chair at Albany, was in a happy one. As he walked to the inauguration, with a
broad smile he remarked to a friend that he was attending "to see Roosevelt take the veil."

354

CHAPTER XXIV

VICE PRESIDENT

Of all the jobs he held, Roosevelt liked the Vice Presidency the least. It was
a post of limited scope, of small possibilities. There was little that he could do,
and he felt that his political life was over. Not since Martin Van Buren in 1836
had a Vice President succeeded a President, and this time the situation was
different — McKinley was no Andrew Jackson.

But while Roosevelt saw his future in dark colors, his friends thought
differently. They believed that he would be the exception to the rule; they were
confident that he could break precedent and would be the first Vice President
to be nominated for the Presidency. "I have no doubt that you will be
the nominee in 1904," wrote his friend William Howard Taft, and Senator
Lodge advised him to handle himself with caution so that there would be
nothing against him when the time came.

The year 1901, when Roosevelt took office under McKinley, was to be a
fateful one for him, and it was already proving an interesting one for the
nation. In January a great oil boom had begun in the previously untapped
state of Texas when a well spouting 200 feet into the air was brought in near
Beaumont. A government report showed that there was now an astonishing
total of nearly 10,000 motor cars in the nation, and that one family in 66 was
now equipped with a telephone. A month before McKinley's inauguration
Governor-General Leonard Wood of Cuba, Roosevelt's former comrade-in-
arms, had launched the Army's historic attack against yellow fever on the in-
fested island. And on the very eve of the inaugural, J. P. Morgan & Com-
pany announced the formation of a monster combine to be known as U. S.
Steel Corporation, with an unprecedented capitalization of $1,400,000,000.
"God made the world in 4004 B.C.," vent a current witticism, "but it was
reorganized in 1901 by James J. Hill, J. Pierpont Morgan, and John D.
Rockefeller."

The most controversial public issue at the opening of the McKinley admin-
istration was raised but not settled in the campaign of the previous fall: the issue
about the fate of the new territories which the United States had acquired over-
seas as a result of the Spanish- American War. The treaty signed at Paris had given
us unlimited control over Puerto Rico and the Philippine Islands — and in the
case of the Philippines our decision not to grant independence had pushed us
into a bloody and demoralizing guerrilla war with the native liberation forces
headed by Emilio Aguinaldo. The position of the McKinley administration,
and presumably of a majority of Americans, was reflected by Kipling's injunc-
tion of two years earlier to "take up the White Man's burden"— a viewpoint

355

amplified in a much-quoted speech by young Senator Albert J. Beveridge of
Indiana, who pictured America as "the trustee, under God, of the civilization
of the world." Yet this expansionist philosophy was bitterly contested by
many others who felt that our Philippine policy of "pacification by force" was
a total denial of what we had claimed to be fighting for in the war with Spain.
Because of the intensity of feelings on this issue and the moral questions it
raised, there was wild celebrating across the nation when, barely three weeks
after McKinley's inaugural, the Philippine Insurrection was finally brought to
an end by Major-General Frederick Funston's dramatic capture of Aguinaldo,
who subsequently took an oath of allegiance to the United States. It was
mainly due to the bitterness of the Philippine controversy that Americans
thereafter turned increasingly away from the expansionist notions for which
Beveridge had been cheered but a year earlier.

Immediately after the inauguration, Roosevelt had taken up the Vice Presi-
dent's duties as president of the Senate. The Senate session, as it happened,
was only a five-day affair, devoted primarily to confirming various presidential
appointments. The brevity of the session suited Roosevelt admirably, for he
had little interest in the role of a parliamentary umpire and had frequently
remarked when his vice-presidential candidacy was under discussion that
he would find it both boring and exasperating to preside over debates in
which he could not actively participate. As Chauncey Depew rather mildly
put it, Roosevelt conspicuously lacked the "equable temper" desirable in
such a situation. Nonetheless, his first appearance as Senate president was
made into something of a family affair, with Edith, the children and a dozen
other members of the Roosevelt clan watching in awe from the gallery. "He
was very quiet and dignified," Mrs. Roosevelt reported to her sister.

A fortnight later the Vice President was back with the family at Oyster Bay,
his official duties presumably over with until December, when Congress would
reconvene. The prospect of four more years of such inactivity still chilled him,
and he began exploring the idea of resuming the law school studies he had
begun at Columbia two decades earlier, partly to fill his time profitably and
partly as an economic anchor to windward in the event that no worthwhile
opportunity for continued public service were to present itself after completion
of his term as Vice President- By May he had made arrangements to under-
take legal studies upon his return to Washington in the fall under the guid-
ance of Chief Justice White of the Supreme Court. Meanwhile, he lived what
he rather apologetically termed a life of "unwarranted idleness" at Sagamore
Hill, interspersed with several speaking tours and a hunting trip to Colorado
in August. Late that month Edith took the children, who had been suffering
from various minor ailments, to the Tahawus Club in the Adirondack Moun-
tains for some invigorating mountain air, while Roosevelt went off on a speak-
ing tour with plans for joining them in the mountains early in September.

All of a sudden this peaceful life was cut short by a tragic event. At 4
o'clock in the afternoon of September 6, as President McKinley was greeting
visitors at a reception in his honor at Buffalo's Pan-American Exposition, the
half-crazed anarchist Leon Czolgosz approached him with a revolver con-

356

ccaled under a handkerchief. As McKinley reached out to shake hands
with him, Czolgosz fired, pumping two bullets into the President's body. One
of the bullets was harmless, merely grazing McKinley's chest, but the other
penetrated the wall of his stomach. An emergency operation was performed
at the hospital of the Exposition, after which the President was removed to
the home of a political friend.

The news reached Roosevelt that afternoon at Isle La Motte, on Lake
Champlain, where he was attending the annual outing of the Vermont Fish
and Game League. He immediately took a special train to Buffalo, arriving
there the following day. To his relief, the news was good; the President's
doctors were confident that McKinley would recover. To his sister Bamie,
Roosevelt reported that "the President is coming along splendidly," adding:
"Awful though this crime was against the President it was a thousand-
fold worse crime against this Republic and against free government all over
the world." Two days later he informed Lodge in Paris: "Long before you re-
ceive this letter I believe the last particle of danger will have vanished; nor do
I anticipate even a long convalescence." As there was no emergency, Roose-
velt left Buffalo the following day to join his family in the Adirondacks and
continue his vacation.

But less than a week later, early on the morning of Friday, September 13,
the President's condition took a severe turn for the worse and an urgent
message was sent to Albany, where a courier was dispatched to notify the
Vice President. The day before, Roosevelt, with Edith, Kermit, Ethel, and
three friends, had started an overnight trip into the Mount Marcy area.
Roosevelt, with the menfolk of the party, had gone to the summit and was on
his way down early in the afternoon when a guide reached him with the fate-
ful message. Signed by Secretary of War Elihu Root, it said: "The President
appears to be dying, and members of the Cabinet in Buffalo think you should
lose no time in coming." It was night time before Roosevelt made the 35-mile
trip from the clubhouse to the nearest railroad, traveling in a buckboard at
breakneck speed through the darkness on rough mountain roads. On board-
ing his special train in North Creek just before dawn, he learned that Pres-
ident McKinley had died at 2:15 that morning.

Arriving in Buffalo early that afternoon, Roosevelt repaired to the place
where the dead President lay, and paid his respects to Mrs. McKinley. Then,
at about 3 o'clock, he joined the Cabinet members in the study of the Ansley
Wilcox residence. "I will show the people at once that the administration of
the government will not falter in spite of the terrible blow," he declared, his
face grim and impassive. "I wish to say that it shall be my aim to continue,
absolutely unbroken, the policy of President McKinley for the peace, the
prosperity, and the honor of our beloved country." He then took the oath of
office administered by Judge John R. Hazel of the United States District Court.

Theodore Roosevelt was now President of the United States.

357

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PRESIDING OVER THE SENATE

This Berryman cartoon in the Washington
caricatures Roosevelt as the president of the Senate.
The public could not think of him as an impartial
arbitrator; for the American people, Roosevelt
was the dashing, fighting hero of San Juan Hill.

WORRIED ABOUT THE FUTURE

On May 16, 1901, not long after the begin-
ning of his vice-presidential term, Roosevelt
wrote this letter to Governor Hugh S.
Thompson, pondering about his future
career:

"If I get through the Vice Presidency I
should like to get some position in a college
where I could give lectures on United States
history to graduates, and at the same time
start to write a history of the United States.
Although a republican politician, I really
believe I could do absolute justice, or very
nearly absolute justice, as between section
and section. South Carolina has never re-
ceived the proper recognition for the great
part she played long before the lead she
took in the nullification and secession move-
ments." In his dark moments he felt that his
political career would be finished with the
end of the vice- presidential term. What was
he to do after that? To become a writer? To
#ecome a professor? To become a lawyer?

358

THE IMAGE OF THE VICE-PRESIDENT. To cartoonists, Roosevelt was a much
stronger personality than McKinley. But Roosevelt had a low opinion of the vice-presidential
office. His main duty was to preside over the Senate, and as he was a thoroughgoing partisan
with scant knowledge of parliamentary law and a temper at a low boiling point, he made a
poor showing in the post. Fortunately for him, his rule was of short duration — lasting from
March 5-9, after which a recess was called. When the Senate reconvened, Roosevelt was
already President and relieved of Senate duties. A newspaper account of the period tells an
amusing incident of his senatorial rule. Convinced that all Democratic senators were ob-
structionists, he once, when a vote was taken, bowed to the Republican side and said: "All in
favor will say Aye," then turning to the Democratic side he called: "All those opposed say No."

359

THE LAST SHO

The President on li
way to a reception ,
the Pan America
Exhibition in Bu
falo. A few minut
after this photograf
was taken, McKi
ley was felled 1
an assassin's bulli

THE ASSASSIN AND THE PRESIDENT

On September 6, as McKinley was attending a
public reception in Buffalo's Temple of Music, Leon
Czolgosz, an anarchist, moved toward him and
discharged a revolver hidden in a handkerchief.

BEFORE THE TEMPLE OF MUSIC a large
crowd was waiting to greet President McKinley.

361

THE MILBURN RESIDENCE in Buffalo. It was
here that the President, after struggling for his
life for a full week, died on September 14, 1901.

OUTSIDE THE HOUSE. Theodore Roosevelt and
Mr. Milburn confer. They were waiting on the lawn
for the doctor's report on McKinley's condition.

THE VICE-PRESIDENT gives an interview to the
press. Roosevelt had to answer a variety of questions
thrown at him by the ever-present newspapermen.

VICE-PRESIDENT ROOSEVELT

On September 6, 1901, the day the assas-
sin shot the President, Roosevelt was a

362

AS HE ARRIVES IN BUFFALO FOR A VISIT TO THE WOUNDED PRESIDENT MCKINLEY

dinner guest of the Vermont Fish and Game League that a telephone message reached him with the
on Isle la Motte in Lake Champlain. It was there news. He left immediately, hurrying to Buffalo.

363

WHERE ROOSEVELT TOOK THE OATH OF THE PRESIDENCY on September
14, 1901 : The parlor of the Wilcox residence in Buffalo. The night before, when McKinley's
condition worsened, Roosevelt was summoned from the Adirondacks, where he went after
the doctors assured him that the President would pull through. By relays he was
brought down in bouncing buckboards over tortuous roads. One driver said of the wild
ride: "I made the last sixteen miles in one hour and forty-three minutes. It was the darkest
night I ever saw. I could not even see my horses except the spots where the flickering lan-
tern light fell on them." But Roosevelt urged him on: "Push along! Hurry up! Go faster."

364

THE NEW PRESIDENT

ON HIS MOUNT "BLEISTEIN"

Part 3:
PRESIDENT

THE FIRST PHOTOGRAPHS
OF THE PRESIDENT
AND HIS WIFE.

CHAPTER XXV

THE FIRST BATTLES

While the ordinary man's attitude toward the new President was one of
curiosity and expectation, that of the financier and big businessman was of
trembling fear and jittery concern. The business moguls who, in the words of
Henry Adams, had regarded McKinley as "nothing more than a very supple
and highly paid agent," were ill at ease about the "damned cowboy" who now
was the head of the state. Could they rely on him? The watchword of
the 1900 campaign had been "stand pat," and Mark Hanna considered the
outcome "a clear mandate to govern the country in the interests of business
expansion." But Roosevelt had too many of the earmarks of a reformer, a boat-
rocker, a meddlesome political adventurer.

President McKinley was still alive when Douglas Robinson, Roosevelt's
brother-in-law, sent Roosevelt a long letter by messenger, telling him that in
New York's financial circles there was a fear that if he became President he
might change matters so "as to upset the confidence." And after McKinley's
death, Hanna himself urged the new President to "go slow."

Roosevelt was thoroughly amenable to these pleas. He told the grief-stricken
Hanna that he would not attempt anything out of the ordinary, and he
pledged his word to continue his predecessor's policies. Wall Street took heart,
and the "stand-pat" newspapers waxed lyrical. "Theodore Roosevelt is a man
on whom the American people can rely as a safe and sagacious successor to
William McKinley," wrote the conservative New York Sun. And Mr. Hanna
praised the new President: "Mr. Roosevelt is an entirely different man today
from what he was a few weeks since. He has now acquired all that is needed
to round out his character — equipoise and conservatism."

However, to more perceptive observe! . the omens of trouble were not dif-
ficult to perceive, for Roosevelt exhibited from the first a brash self-confidence
that had not been seen at the White House in many a year. His manner was
informal and — to the delight of the newspapermen — outspoken. He saw scores
of visitors a day, listening to them attentively and dispatching them with
machine-gun rapidity. "Every day or two," remarked one reporter, "he rattles
the dry bones of precedent and causes sedate senators and heads of depart-
ments to look over their spectacles in consternation." A few days after moving
into the White House he shocked a delegation of Congressmen by telling
them that "if I cannot find Republicans I am going to appoint Democrats" —
and two weeks later he proved it by making Thomas Goode Jones, a Democrat
from Alabama, a federal judge. Soon conservative 'Southerners were stirred to
fury when they learned that the President had invited Booker T. Washington,

369

the distinguished Negro educator, to the White House — an act which the
Memphis Scimitar termed "the most damnable outrage ever."

Senators and Congressmen who asked him illegitimate favors were firmly
shown the door. A Texas Senator came in seeking promotion for an Army
colonel who, he said, was favored by the entire Legislature of Texas despite
the disapproval of his superior officers. "I don't give a damn for his superior
officers!" said the Senator, to which Roosevelt replied: "Well, Senator, I don't
give a damn for the Legislature of Texas." Before long, Finley Peter Dunne's
"Mr. Dooley" was proposing an "emergency hospital f 'r office-holders an'
politicians acrost th' sthreet fr'm th' White House."

Roosevelt's eagerly awaited first message to Congress covered a score of sub-
jects but was strangely mild in content. It dealt at some length with the grow-
ing power of the great industrial trusts — the biggest domestic issue of the time
— but the tone was that of caution. To the puzzled Mr. Dooley the message's
equivocal words seemed to say that "th' trusts are heejous monsthers built up
be th' inlightened intherprise iv th' men that have done so much to advance
progress in our beloved country. On wan hand I wud stamp thim undher fut;
on th' other hand not so fast."

Three months later, however, all those who had found the message so reas-
suring suffered a severe shock. Without warning to Wall Street — indeed, with-
out discussing it with his Cabinet — Roosevelt authorized Attorney General
Philander Knox to invoke the Sherman Anti-Trust Act against the Northern
Securities Company, the new giant holding company which represented a
merger of the vast Harriman and Hill railroad empires.

The corporation lawyers who had formed Northern Securities were certain
that it was invulnerable to legal attack; they based their opinion on the
American Sugar Refining case six years earlier, when the Supreme Court had
said in effect that the trusts were immune from prosecution because the fed-
eral power to regulate interstate commerce did not include the power to reg-
ulate acquisitions of stock. But when the Northern Securities suit was finally
decided in 1904, the Supreme Court reversed its former verdict by a 5-4
margin. The new decision meant that the government had the right to control
powerful business combinations.

From the outset, one of Roosevelt's strongest assets was his skill in molding
public opinion and his readiness to appeal to the people over the heads
of Congress. Soon after launching the Northern Securities case, he undertook
a succession of speaking tours in which he repeatedly stated his deepening
conviction that the nation must seek a middle course between "the demagogue
who raves against wealth" and the plutocrat who denies that social evils exist.
"When you can make it evident," he said in Boston, "that all men, big and
small alike, have to obey the law, you are putting the safeguard of law around
all men." The electorate approved such language. As the mid-term elections
of 1902 approached, it seemed evident that Roosevelt would win a Republi-
can endorsement from the voters but for one obstacle.

That obstacle was a coal strike which had begun in the anthracite fields of
eastern Pennsylvania on May 12, 1902, and dragged on through the summer

370

and early fall with no end in sight. Some 140,000 miners, newly organized in
the United Mine Workers, were involved in it, but the political danger came
not from the workers but from the coal-consuming public. Lodge, writing
Roosevelt in alarm, predicted "political disaster in New England" and
quoted a typical constituent as saying: "We don't care whether you are
to blame or not. Coal is going up and the party in power must be punished."

In essence, the issue at the mines was union recognition. Repeatedly in the
months before the strike was called, John Mitchell, the level-headed young
president of the union, had asked the operators to meet with him to discuss
wages and various grievances; just as often, the operators had told him they
would deal with their workers only as individuals, not as a union.

George F. Baer, president of the mine-owning Philadelphia & Reading
Railroad, was the spokesman for the operators. He was haughty, arrogant,
and full of his own importance. When Mitchell proposed arbitration by several
prominent clergymen, Baer replied: "Anthracite mining is a business and not
a religious, sentimental, or academic proposition."

At the height of the strike, on September 3, Roosevelt suffered an accident
at Pittsfield, Massachusetts, which almost proved fatal. He was forced to re-
turn to Washington and be confined to a wheel chair. In this condition he in-
vited the spokesmen of the operators and the miners to discuss a settlement
with him. The meeting proved to be a bitter and fruitless one. Mitchell
suggested that the President name an arbitration commission and offered to
abide by whatever decision such a group might make. But the coal operators
would not hear of such a proposal. They denounced Mitchell as an "outlaw"
and an "instigator of violence and crime." Baer even went so far as to rebuke
the President for asking them to "waste time negotiating with the fomenters
of this anarchy." Roosevelt held his temper with difficulty. "If it wasn't for
the high office I hold," he noted, "I would have taken him by the seat of the
breeches and the nape of the neck and chucked him out the window."

In the face of this seemingly hopeless situation, the President planned
to send an army of 1 0,000 regulars into the coal fields, dispossess the operators,
and dig the coal without regard to interference from the owners, strikers, or even
the courts. When Secretary of War Elihu Root, a former Wall Street attorney,
heard of the plan, he asked for permission to try once more to arrange a
settlement through J. P. Morgan. Root and the banker met on Morgan's
yacht, The Corsair, in New York harbor, and when they disembarked, Morgan
had agreed to bring pressure on the mine operators to accept arbitration by
a commission to be appointed by the President.

The country approved the way Roosevelt handled the issue. The Review of
Reviews described his performance as "the greatest event affecting the relations
of capital and labor in the history of America."

371

SOCIAL LIFE IN WASHINGTON

A WHITE HOUSE RECEPTION as seen by
Charles Weber, an artist for Leslie's Weekly, where the
drawing appeared on January 16, 1902. Roosevelt
enjoyed the company of people, so did his daughter
Alice (next to him) and Mrs. Roosevelt (next to
Alice). There were dinners and parties, receptions
and levees. When the President was criticized about

the cost of such entertainments, he replied that all
these sundry expenses were paid for out of his private
pocket. "Apparently people do not understand . . .
that I pay the butcher, the baker, and the grocer at
Washington just as I do at Oyster Bay; and the pro-
test is apparently against my having people whom
I like lunch or dine with me at the White House."

INVITED TO DINNER. The very
day he took office, Roosevelt wrote
to Booker T. Washington, the Negro
educator, suggesting a conference.
The President wanted to talk about
appointments in the South, to be
based on merit. A month later he
invited Dr. Washington to have din-
ner at the White House, an invita-
tion which created an uproar in the
South. "The most damnable outrage
ever committed," cried a Memphis
newspaper. "A studied insult,"
headlined the New Orleans Picayune.
Roosevelt retorted testily that he
would ask Dr. Washington to his din-
ner table as often as he pleased, but
it did not take him long to realize that
the invitation was a political mis-
take which he did not repeat again.

372

STATE BANQUET FOR PRINCE HENRY

The German Prince Henry came to the United
States in February 1902 on a good-will tour to
offset the anti-German feelings in the country.
The official reason for the Prince's visit was to take
over the yacht built in an American shipyard for his
brother, the German Emperor. President Roosevelt

entertained him lavishly, and "took him out for a
first-class two hours' ride in the rain." When it was
suggested that Alice Roosevelt, who was to chris-
ten the vessel, should also make a short speech,
Roosevelt told the amused John Hay: "I hesitated,
as the only motto sufficiently epigrammatic that
came to my mind was 'Damn the Dutch!!!'"

REINCARNATION

The ghost of President McKinley
stands behind his successor, guiding
his decisions. On taking office
Roosevelt declared that he would
continue "absolutely unbroken" the
policy of McKinley. And when
Mark Hanna wrote him to "go
slow," Roosevelt promised to do so.
Roosevelt asked all members of
the McKinley Cabinet to keep their
posts; he did not replace any of
them. John Hay remained Secretary
of State; LymanJ. Gage, Secretary
of Treasury; Elihu Root, Secretary
of War; John D. Long, Secre-
tary of Navy; Ethan A. Hitchcock,
Secretary of Interior; James Wil-
son, Secretary of Agriculture; Phil-
ander C. Knox, Attorney General.

373

A-&:

FIGHTING PLUTOCRATS

Roosevelt held that "Of all forms
of tyranny the least attractive and
the most vulgar is the tyranny of
mere wealth, the tyranny of pluto-
cracy." Determined to check the
rise of the financial giants whose
power overshadowed that of the
federal government, he initiated
a suit for the dissolution of the
newly formed Northern Securities
Company, which aimed at a rail-
road monopoly in the Northwest.
Under the label of the $400,000,-
000 holding company, the bankers
J. P. Morgan and Kuhn and Loeb
Company had merged Edward
H. Harriman's Union Pacific
with James J. Hill's Northern
Pacific and Great Western.

The suit, filed in St. Paul and
won by the government, was
appealed, and the U. S. Supreme
Court decided that the merger of
the railroads was in violation of
the Sherman Anti-Trust Act,
ordering the dissolution of the
Northern Securities.

"It seems hard," said railroad
baron Hill, ". . . that we should
be compelled to fight for our lives
against the political adventurers
who have never done anything
but pose and draw a salary."

FINANCIER J. P. MORGAN,

one of the powers behind the
Northern Securities Company,
was stunned when he heard that
the President asked for the com-
pany's dissolution. "If we have
done anything wrong send your
man [Attorney General Knox] to
my man [his lawyer] and they
can fix it up," he told Roosevelt,
treating the President as if he
were a rival operator. He wanted
to know whether his other inter-
ests would be attacked. "Not,"
replied Roosevelt, "unless we find
out . . . they have done some-
thing that we regard as wrong."

374

nillitftij
b (Offirr.

17t**

BJT dear Mxv Clarkt-

Z have your letter of the 16th instant,

I do not know who you are. I Ma that you are a relig~
lout man; but you art evidently biased in favor of the right of
the working man to control a bueineaa in which ho has no other in-
terest than to aoeuro fair mgos for the work b« 6oee»

I beg of you not to be dlaoouraged* T>ie rights and ia»
tereate of the laboring man will be protected and cared for • not
by the labor agitator*, but by the Christian men to *hoa God In Bis
Infinite wiadoea has given the control of the property intsrdats of
the country, and upon the sucoooBful Management of wich so ouch de»
pecds*

Bo not be discouraged Pray earnestly that right may
triumph, always ranaabering tiiat the Lord God Otonlpot^nt dtill
reigns | and that Bis reign is one of law and order, and not of Tio-
lanco and orizae*

tm(yf

President*

T. dark,

AN AMAZING LETTER, by the spokesman of the coal barons: "The rights and interests
of the laboring man will be protected and cared for ... by the Christian men to whom God
in his infinite wisdom has given the control of the property interests of the country. . . ."

375

ASSAILING THE TRUSTS

Roosevelt speaks in Providence,
R.I., on August 23, 1902.

NARROW ESCAPE FROM DEATH

THE PRESIDENTS BROKEN LANDAU

ONE OF THE HORSES WAS KILLED

WITH SWOLLEN FACE, HE GOES ON

AN HOUR LATER HE SPOKE IN LENOX

THE PITTSFIELD ACCIDENT

On September 3 Roosevelt, while driving in an open
landau with Massachusetts Governor Murray Crane
and presidential secretary George B. Cortelyou,
barely escaped death. An electric railway car out-
side Pittsfield, Mass., collided with his carriage, and
the impact threw all the men in the vehicle onto the
road. Secret Service man William Craig, sitting on
the driver's box beside the coachman, fell'from his
seat in front of the trolley and was run over.
Cortelyou was severely wounded in the back of his
head; Roosevelt's lip was cut, his face and leg
bruised; only Governor Crane was unharmed.

The accident occurred because people on the
electric car urged the motorman to drive as near to
the President as possible. Thus, when the track,
which was running down the center of the road,
turned toward the right in a narrow bend, the
racing trolley could not stop in time to avoid colliding
with the presidential carriage. (The place of the
collision was not far from the house where Herman
Melville wrote Moby Dick.) According to the news-
paper report, "the car struck the rear wheel of the

380

carriage on the left side and ploughed through the
front wheel of the vehicle, which received the full
force of the blow. The carriage was upset in the
twinkling of an eye and one horse fell dead on the
tracks."

Half an hour later the presidential party resumed
the journey to Lenox, where the President made a
short speech, reassuring his listeners that he was not
hurt. Then he proceeded through Great Barrington
and New Milford to Bridgeport, Conn., where
30,000 people had assembled at Seaside Park to
greet him. The meeting over, Roosevelt joined Mrs.
Roosevelt, Kermit, Ethel, and his mother-in-law,
waiting for him on the gunboat Sylph, which took
the family across the Sound to Oyster Bay.

Sympathy messages came from all parts of the
world. Emperor Wilhelm II of Germany sent his
felicitations, as did King Edward VII of England.
Thanking Edward for his wire, Roosevelt cabled
him: "My hurts were trivial." This seemed so at
first, but soon afterwards the bruised leg began to
swell, an abscess developed and had to be drained.
For weeks Roosevelt was confined to a wheel chair.

THE DAY HE ENTERED THE HOSPITAL

at Indianapolis (September 23) Roosevelt
spoke at Tipton, Indiana, on his policies.

SURGERY AT INDIANAPOLIS

Two days after the Pittsfield accident Roosevelt was
on the road again. His journey took him south; he
spoke at Wheeling, W. Va., and addressed the con-
vention of the Brotherhood of Locomotive Firemen
in Chattanooga. Before returning to his home, he
made speeches at Asheville and Greensboro, N.C.
He remained at Oyster Bay only a week, then was
off again — this time he was traveling west. He spoke
on the trusts and on tariff in Cincinnati, on Cuban
reciprocity and the Philippine problems in Detroit,
and on the creation of a tariff commission in
Indiana

On September 23 he addressed the Spanish-
American War veterans at Indianapolis' Tomlinson
Hall For the past few days his left leg, which he
injured in Pittsfield, had caused him some pain. The
doctors who were summoned at Indianapolis found
that the bruise had developed into a small abscess
and urged an operation to drain the leg and reduce
the swelling. Roosevelt followed their advice and
entered St. Vincent's Infirmary. The medical bulletin
issued after the operation said that "there was found
to be a circumscribed collection of perfectly pure
serum in the middle third of the left anterior tibial

region, the sac containing about two ounces, which
was removed."

While the doctors worked on the leg, Roosevelt
was in high, spirits. He always loved the unusual,
and for him an operation was unusual. He joked
with the surgeons and the Sisters. He was given
a local anesthetic, then an aspirator (a syringe that
works backwards) was inserted into the swollen leg.
Though he gritted his teeth, he would not keep
silent. He told the surgeons that if they desired any
expert information on the subject, "he could inform
them that something was happening in the vicinity
of his shinbone."

Soon Governor Durbin and other politicians were
admitted to the room. Roosevelt apologized to them
that he had to cut short his tour, but the danger of
blood poisoning had forced him to listen to his
doctors' advice.

In the evening the President was taken to his
special train and put into bed with his leg propped
up on pillows. A reporter noted* "He at once began
to read a book." When he reached Washington—
though confined to a wheel chair — he pursued life
as actively as ever. A great problem waited for
solution: the settling of the anthracite coal strike.

INDIANAPOLIS' COLUMBIA CLUB, where the
doctors examined Roosevelt and advised surgery.

ST. VINCENT'S HOSPITAL, where on September
23 an operation was performed on his infected leg.

382

AN EFFORT TO END THE COAL STRIKE

On October 3 the wheel-chair-ridden President
summoned the coal operators and the representatives
of the miners to his temporary residence in Washing-
ton. It was the first time in American history that a

A HISTORIC OCCASION

Ten days after the abortive confer-
ence with the operators, J. Pierpont
Morgan, the banker, came to Wash-
ington to discuss with the President
the settling of the coal strike. Roose-
velt repeated to the financier that if
the operators would not accept the
proposal of an arbitration com-
mission, he would send General
Schofield with 10,000 soldiers to
the mine fields, dispossess the mine
owners, and run the mines under
military rule. Returning to New
York, J. P. Morgan persuaded the
coal barons to accept arbitration.

Chief Executive personally interfered in a labor dis-
pute. On Roosevelt's left is John Mitchell of the
United Mine Workers. Standing on the right is George
F. Baer, president of the Philadelphia & Reading
Railroad and spokesman for the mine operators.

383

Pernonal.

Octcbor 17, 1902.

I>KT Cabot:

On the migration of Koulke I shall write you one incident
while it io freth on my Mind, in connection with thio coal etrike.
Thn wild advice I have received in reference to it if really ex-
traordinary. I aunt show you a letter from Stuyvoeant Finh which
in as startling of its kind ae anything I have ever reed. Also
another Gijood Dr. Yin Dyke wldch is to the effect that if feder-
al troops ore eent Into th« diotrict they ehould enforce altndea
at the bayonet* a point on the operator a.

The crisis cane at th* last nonent. Botwoeprthe houre of
10 P.M. and 1 A.M. I had Perklna and Bacon on herein behalf of
Mo PI on, but really representing the operator a. Neither Korean
nor ar.yone elee had been able to do aueh with tiieoe wooden-headed
gentry, and Bacon and Perkins wore literally alaost erasy. Bacon
in particular had beeone so excited that I was quite concerned
over hi. condition. The operators had Halted ae down^by a fool
proviso, to five different types of man, including 'an eninent so-
ciologist*. This voa a ridiculous provieo because T could have
appointed bod non in every eaee and yet kept to ite letter? and

-2-

they ought to haw* given ae a free hand. The oiaere, on the other
hand, vented m to appoint at leaet two extra aeabere ayeelf, or
in son* faehlon to get Biehop Spaidlng (wbo%l aveelf wwted), and
a labor union aan on jtf I rofordotf their contention ae per-
fectly reasonable, and eo iaforaetf Bacon end Perkine and the ope-
rator e. Th« operators refused point blank to haw* another asn
added, and Bacon and Perkins oene on nearly wild to ear that they
had full power to treat on behalf of the operator e, but that no
extra asn should bo added. Finally it developed that what they
aeant vac that no extra osn should be added if he wae a repre-
sentative of organised labor J end argue ae I eould, nothinc would
aake thea ehsngof although they grow aore end aoro hjrterieal, and
not aoroly adaltted^but insisted/hat the failure to agroo -a ant
probsble violenee and possible sooial war. it took as about
two hours before I at last craeped the fact that the 'nighty brains
of those ceptaina of industry had foraulatod the theory that they
would rather have onerchy than fessodlodua, but that if I would ues
the word tcoodlodoo they would hail it ae aeonlng pesos. IB
other words, that they had not the slirfitost objection to ay ap-
pointing a labor sun as "an sodnent sociologist*, end adding
Bishop Spoiling on ay own aceount, but they preferred to soo the
Rod Conoune coae then to hero as aako Bishop Spsldlng or anyone
else *£/oaiacnt sociologist* and add the labor aan. I instantly
told thea that I had not the elightost objection whatever to doing

HOW THE COAL STRIKE CAME TO AN END

While the operators were ready to accept a five-
man arbitration commission, they were not willing
to see a representative of labor on the board. Roose-
velt, in a last-effort letter to J. P. Morgan, said that
with "a little ingenuity" he could appoint a board
acceptable to both sides, and proposed increasing
the number of commissioners to seven. That brought
about a crisis.

"Between the hours of 10 P.M. and 1 A.M.,"
wrote the President to Cabot Lodge two days later,
"I had Perkins and Bacon on here, on behalf of
Morgan, but really representing the operators.
Neither Morgan nor anyone else had been able
to do much with these wooden-headed gentry, and
Bacon and Perkins were literally almost crazy. . . .
The operators had limited me down, by a fool
proviso, to five different types of men, including
"an eminent sociologist." This was a ridiculous
proviso. . . . The miners, on the other hand, wanted
me to appoint at least two extra members myself.
... I regarded their contention as perfectly reason-

384

able, and so informed Bacon and Perkins and the
operators. The operators refused point blank to have
another man added. . . . Finally it developed that
what they meant was that no extra man should be
added if he was a representative of organized labor;
and argue as I could, nothing would make them
change. ... It took me about two hours before I at
last grasped the fact that the mighty brains of these
captains of industry had formulated the theory that
they would rather have anarchy than tweedledum,
but that if I would use the word tweedledee they
would hail it as meaning peace. In other words, that
they had not the slightest objection to my appoint-
ing a labor man as "an eminent sociologist," and
adding Bishop Spalding on my own account, but
they preferred to see the Red Commune come rather
than to have me make Bishop Spalding or anyone
else the "eminent sociologist" and add the labor
man. I instantly told them that I had not the slight-
est objection whatever to doing an absurd thing
when it was necessary to meet the objection of an
absurd mind on some vital point, and that I would

aa ibaurd thine whan it waa aeeeeeary to aoat tht *bjectian of an
abawrf find on aono vital point, and that X would theerfully ap*
point my labor MR M the'Wnant eoeiolofief. It wae atetat
iapoaelble for M to appraeiata tho Inatant and traomdoue nliof
thie (ar» thta. Tfcoy aev nothing offon-lTO la aiy Iowa* and
nothini rediculoue in tht propoaltioa. and Piorpont Morgan aid
Boar, whan called up by telephone, aaforly ratified the abaurdltr,"
and accordingly,** thie utterly uniaportant prloo j» bid fair to
cone out of M daafforouo a altuatloo oa I ovor <
Lovo to Nonnio,

Hon. H. C. Lodfa, U.3.S.,
Nahant. tfaaa.

P. 8.

In aoorooy. Stuyvoaant Hah* a propoaition «w that tha bi»
tmdnoua ainara vara antitlad to aat all tha banafit thoy amid
out of tha atoppafa of tha anthraeita aoal aupply, and that with
" all dua raapact to my huBanitarian aotiTaa*' ha onat prataat an bo-
half of the oparatora, dlnera and oarriara aneac«d in tha bitvai-
nou« coal trada acainat any af fort of idna to aaaura a aattlaaaiit

wlii oh would in tar faro to tha lagitiaato axtanaion of thair bttai-
naoo/ Tha only analogy I oould think of would bo a protoat by
th« undartakara agaiaat tho izproper aotirity of tha Covoronont
qnarantiao offioara in prwantiac tha adndttanca of AalaUo oholarm
to our ahoraa.

Aa for tha aultituda of eraaturaa who want no to V»w t)M
ecal barona by tht throat^ on tha ono hand, or on tho othor hand,
to *atasp out tha lawlaaanoai of tho tradoa uniona by tha inatant
diiplay of foreo wdor tha penalty of being eonoidarod a <
gogue - why, I couldn't begin to enumerate thra.

T. R.

cheerfully appoint my labor man as the "eminent
sociologist". . . . Pierpont Morgan and Baer, when
called up by telephone, eagerly ratified the absurd-
ity; and accordingly, at this utterly unimportant
price we bid fair to come out of as dangerous a
situation as I ever dealt with."

Thus, on October 16, with Roosevelt appointing
the commission, the strike finally came to an end.

THE ARBITRATION COMMITTEE AT WORK

In a railroad car moving from place to place in the
coal district the seven members of the commission
interviewed miners and listened to their grievances.
From left to right: General John M. Wilson, Labor
Commissioner Carroll D. Wright, E. E. Clark
(showing his back), Judge George Gray, Edward
W. Parker, Bishop John L. Spalding, and Thomas
H. Watkins. On March 22, 1903, the commission
awarded a 10 per cent wage increase to the miners
but denied recognition of the United Mine Workers.

LINES FOR COAL. It was now October. Ever since May 12, 147,000 miners had been
idle in one of the longest strikes the country had ever known. Schools closed, factories and
engine rooms were in dire need of fuel, hospitals cold. The discontent of the people grew,
there was an ugly spirit in the air, the anger against the coal operators mounted. "Unless
the strike is ended and fuel is reduced in price," wrote one New York newspaper, "there is a
general impression that weather sufficiently cold to cause real suffering among the poor will
drive thousands to the coal yards, where rioting will occur if they are denied the right to
help themselves." But the price of coal rose to $25 a ton, and those who could acquire a
quarter of a ton considered themselves lucky. The reserve policemen at every station were
increased.

On the whole, the country sympathized with the strikers; it understood the legitimacy of
their grievances. A miner in the coal fields earned not more than $10 a week. There were
numerous fatal accidents in the mines — 441 in 1901 alone — and no workman's compen-
sation. The housing accommodations in the company towns were at times preposterous, the
prices in the company stores unfair, the weighing of the coal not equitable.

When Roosevelt showed that he would not bow to the will of the arrogant operators and
insisted on arbitration, his firmness was acclaimed by all those who were critical of the op-
erators' behavior. His settling of the strike enhanced his stature; he had accomplished a deed
that no other President had dared before — he interfered in a dispute between capital and
labor and forced the captains of industry to respect the rights and needs of the general public.

386

CHAPTER XXVI

THE AMERICAN EMPIRE

The problems Roosevelt had inherited from the McKinley administration
did not stop at the water's edge. The Spanish-American War had made the
United States an imperial power with large overseas possessions. It was a
novel experience and, after the first flush of heady adventure wore off, a some-
what disconcerting one. New questions had to be solved, new policies had to
be formulated. What should we do in the Philippines, what should we do in
Cuba, what should we do in Puerto Rico?

In the Phillipine Islands, which we bought from Spain for $20,000,000, we
were compelled to fight a bloody insurrection. The natives were led by Emilio
Aguinaldo, who, with the encouragement of Admiral Dewey, had overrun the
islands shortly after the Battle of Manila Bay and had declared the inde-
pendence of the Philippines. When our policy became annexation rather than
liberation, armed conflict with Aguinaldo's troops was inevitable. The fight-
ing, much of it guerrilla warfare, dragged on for three years, with unspeakable
cruelty on both sides. The American casualties exceeded the total of the entire
Spanish-American War, and the Filipino losses were far greater, including
hundreds of thousands of noncombatants who died from famine and disease
as a result of the devastation of their farmlands.

At home, thoughtful citizens were shocked by the picture of America in the
role of the hated oppressor, and by the excesses of such generals as "Hell
Roaring Jake" Smith, who was eventually court-martialed for telling his men
to make the island of Samar "a howling wilderness" and to "kill everything
over ten." Mark Twain said bitterly that the stars on the American flag
should be replaced by the skull and crossbones, and Andrew Carnegie wrote
to a friend in the administration: "You si~m to have about finished your work
of civilizing the Filipinos; it is thought that about 8,000 of them have been
civilized and sent to Heaven; I hope you like it." The Boston Transcript ex-
pressed the sentiments of countless conscientious citizens with this verse:

O Dcwey at Manila

That fateful first of May

When you sank the Spanish squadron

In almost bloodless fray,

And gave your name to deathless fame;

O glorious Dewey, say,

Why didn't you weigh anchor

And softly sail away?

The fighting came to a virtual standstill when on March 27, 1901, the Ameri-

387

can General Frederick Funston captured Aguinaldo "by decoys, the forging of
letters and other ruses, fit for kidnappers and bank crooks rather than soldiers
of the United States." Roosevelt, at this time still governor of New York,
firmly believing that the Filipinos would be better off under American rule,
congratulated Funston warmly: "I take pride in this crowning exploit of
a career filled with feats of cool courage, iron endurance and gallant daring."

As though to atone for the suppression of the independence movement,
America undertook the job of Filipino reconstruction with zeal and generally
beneficial results. On July 4, 1901, civil administration was instituted with
the kindly Judge William Howard Taft as governor. Native leaders were ap-
pointed to important administrative posts. Modern sanitation brought about
astonishing reductions in the mortality rate of Manila and other cities. Base-
ball became a national pastime, extending even to remote tribal areas where
the Moro chieftains insisted upon doing the batting and leaving the menial
task of base-running to their servants. An enormous education program was
launched. Nonetheless, our Philippine adventure had proved excessively costly
in an economic as well as a moral sense. Between 1898 and 1902 our expendi-
tures in the islands totaled more than $190,000,000.

In Cuba our experience was considerably happier. When Congress, on the
eve of the Spanish war, passed the resolution authorizing the use of American
troops to liberate Cuba, it declared its intent to "leave the government and
control of the island to its people." To the astonishment of cynical Europeans,
we began taking steps toward that end as soon as hostilities ended. In the
autumn of 1900, General Leonard Wood, the military commander of the
island, arranged for a convention of nationalist leaders, and they proceeded to
adopt a constitution modeled on our own.

One thing marred this idealism, however. At the insistence of the McKinley
administration — and over vigorous objections from many Cuban nationalists
and American anti-imperialists — the new constitution was modified by the so-
called Platt Amendment. The effect of the amendment was to give the United
States a virtual veto power over Cuban relations with foreign powers and to
authorize us to intervene in her national affairs when and if we felt it neces-
sary for the preservation of stable government.

The third major American acquisition resulting from the war with Spain
was Puerto Rico. Military occupation of the island ended in 1900 with
the passage of the Foraker Act, which provided for a House of Delegates
elected by the people and a governor and executive council appointed by the
American President.

One of the thorniest of the many problems raised by the American acquisi-
tions was the constitutional question. This the Supreme Court answered in the
spring of 1901 when it handed down its decision in the so-called Insular
Cases. The issue in point was whether the U. S. Constitution should "follow
the flag," conferring on new subjects overseas the same rights and privileges
accorded to American citizens. The Court, amid a confusing welter of concur-
ring and dissenting opinion, declared that as most Americans did not want to
consider Puerto Ricans and Filipinos as constitutional equals, it was for the

388

President and Congress to run American colonies whichever way they desired.
As Mr. Dooley summed it up: "No matter whether the constitution follows
th' flag or not, th' Supreme Court follows th' illiction returns."

The lands taken from Spain were not the only overseas acquisitions to re-
ceive extensive attention. The Hawaiian Islands, their importance as a naval
base greatly increased by our purchase of the Philippines, were annexed in
1898 and received full territorial status two years later. And Alaska, which
had been popularly regarded as little more than a vast wasteland since
its purchase from the Russians in 1867 for half a cent an acre, suddenly
leaped into the headlines with the discovery of gold in the Klondike River area
in 1897. The following year, a gold fever swept across the nation, and thousands
of Americans joined the stampede to the frozen North, most of them poorly
equipped for the rigors of an Alaskan winter. The 20,000 prospectors brought
back picturesque tales for the newspapers but not a great deal of wealth —
though there were colorful exceptions like the much-publicized "Sweetwater
Bill" Gates, who presented his sweetheart with her weight in gold upon his
return to San Francisco.

America was expanding, America was flexing its muscles.

With the acquisition of the Philippine Islands the United States had be-
come a Far Eastern power with, inevitably, a new and vital interest in
the fate of China, which appeared on the point of being gobbled up by Japan
and the major European powers. The American Secretary of State at the time
was John Hay, a remarkably able and scholarly statesman who had gone
from an Illinois law practice to become a secretary to Abraham Lincoln and
had subsequently made a high reputation as a writer, historian, and diplomat.
In the face of the competing claims of the great powers in China, Hay and
the British Foreign Office joined forces in enunciating what came to be known
as the Open Door policy, under which the powers grudingly agreed to respect
each other's rights in China. Soon afterward, a Chinese secret society called
the Boxers massacred some 300 Occidentals near Peking in an effort to drive
the "foreign devils" out of their country. The United States joined in a suc-
cessful punitive expedition against the Boxers, but when in July of 1900 the
episode threatened to provide Germany, Russia, and Japan with an excuse for
the total dismemberment of the weak Chinese nation, Hay sent a circular note
to the major powers amplifying the Open Door policy and guaranteeing in
the name of the United States and Great Britain the political integrity of
China.

In a sense, the Open Door was symbolic of the American attitude toward
overseas expansion. It expressed our new status as a world power, but at the
same time it showed our distaste for joining the rest of the powers in the
scramble for additional colonies. Our expansionist fever, which began in 1898,
was waning fast by 1900. Americans had no desire to take on further respon-
sibilities beyond their borders; they had no desire to grow into a colonial and
imperialist nation.

389

THE CAPTURE OF MALOLOS by the American
forces on March 31, 1899. The revolutionary Phil-
ippine government fled northward; their House of
Congress was set on fire by American soldiers.

THE WAR IN THE PHILIPPINES

After the overthrow of Spanish rule, the Philippines
hoped the United States would grant them inde-
pendence. But when American policy became an-
nexation rather than liberation, armed conflict with
the native troops became inevitable. From February
1899 until March 1901, when the rebel leader,
Emilio Aguinaldo, was captured, the war in the
Philippines went on, with casualties far larger than in
the entire Spanish-American War. Back at home

PHILIPPINE CASUALTIES

after the battle of Malolos.

A FILIPINO PRISONER is interrogated by our
soldiers. It was a cruel war, with unspeakable
atrocities on both sides. Many Filipinos helped the
insurgents against the American "conquerors."

bipartisan anti-imperialist leagues protested against
"prosecuting a ruthless war in a savage manner on
a helpless race."

Roosevelt, concerned about such attacks, wrote to
Senator Hoar: "I am encouraging in every way the
growth of the conditions which now make for self-
government in the Philippines and which, if the
Filipino people can take advantage of them, will
assuredly put them where some day we shall say
that if they desire independence they shall have it."

AMERICAN TROOPS

in battle position in Pasig.

THE PACIFICATION OF THE PHILIPPINES

When President McKinley had chosen William
Howard Taft to govern the Philippines, Taft was
hesitant to accept the honor. He had a distinguished
legal career, which took him from Superior Court
Justice of Ohio to Judge on the Circuit Court. He
liked being a Circuit Court Judge and had no desire
to change. But once he became the governor of the
Philippines, he won the respect and admiration of
the people he governed, and he encompassed real
compassion and sympathy for them.

Taft's administration improved the Philippine
economy, instituted a limited self-government for
the islands, established an educational program. His
sanitary measures cut down the mortality rate; the
building of roads and harbors made life easier for
the "little brown brothers."

But his greatest success was the settling with the
Vatican the land ownership of the Dominican and
Franciscan friars, a major grievance of the Filipinos.
These clerics, who under Spain's dominion largely

ruled the country, were hated by the natives. When
Aguinaldo's revolutionary government came into
being, their lands were confiscated. Many of the
friars, fearing retribution, fled, and Taft agreed with
the wish of the population that they should not re-
turn. The question was how to compensate the Vati-
can for their holdings. To bring an end to the issue,
Taft traveled to Rome in 1902; and after protracted
negotiations he signed an agreement whereby the
United States was to pay $7,239,000 for 410,000
acres of land formerly owned by the friars. This land
was then sold to the Filipinos at a fair price and
"with easy payments for a number of years."

Thus when President Roosevelt recalled Taft in
late 1904 to make him his Secretary of War, his
departure was accepted with genuine sorrow by the
Filipinos. For the full month before his leaving,
there were celebrations in his honor, the most spec-
tacular among them a semi-Spanish-Venetian fiesta
on the Pasig River, on which occasion Taft wel-
comed his guests in the costume of a Venetian doge.

THE LEADERS OF THE PHILIPPINE INSURRECTION. IN THE CENTER: EMILIO AGUINALDO

GOVERNOR TAFT AS VENETIAN DOGE

at one of the elaborate farewell parties
in the Philippines in December 1904.

THE ALASKA CONTROVERSY

Roosevelt inherited this dispute with Great Britain
from the McKinley administration. Canada — after
gold was discovered in the Klondike region in 1896
— claimed a valuable strip of land in southern Alaska.
Roosevelt felt that it was a wholly "false claim" and
that Canada had no more "right to the land in
question than they have to Aroostook County, Maine,
or than we have to New Brunswick."

The English suggested arbitration, but Roosevelt
would not hear of it, and the argument between the
two countries dragged on for years. Roosevelt finally
agreed that six "impartial jurists of repute" — three
from the United States and three from Great Britain
and Canada — should meet in London and determine
the boundary lines; but he told the three "impartial"
American jurists — Henry Cabot Lodge, Elihu Root,
and George Turner, "not to yield any territory
whatever."

And he threatened that if the commission could
not agree on the boundary, the American Congress
would be forced to "give me the authority to run the
line as we claim it, by our own people, without any
further regard to the attitude of England and
Canada."

On October 20, 1903, the tribunal handed down
its decision — the English Lord Chief Justice voting
with the Americans — upholding the American posi-
tion. It was a signal victory for Roosevelt.

Below:

THE ALASKA TRIBUNAL at its final session in
the London Foreign Office. At the head table are the
six commissioners: 1. Lord Alverstone, the English
Lord Chief Justice; 2. Elihu Root, the American
Secretary of War; 3. Senator Henry Cabot Lodge of
Massachusetts; 4. Sir Louis Jette; 5. Allen B. Ayles-
worth, of England; 6. George Turner, ex-Senator
from the state of Washington.

Right:

THE KLONDIKE GOLD RUSH OF 1898

which precipitated the Aljbkan boundary controversy

AS ROOSEVELT SEEMED TO HIS OPPONENTS

A cartoon by Charles R. Macauley in the Democratic New York World. With his right hand
Roosevelt balances the globe, while his left is holding the big stick. To his friend George
Otto Trevelyan the President unburdened himself: "I am trying to make tropical American
peoples understand that on the one hand they must behave themselves reasonably well, and
on the other I have not the slightest intention of doing anything that is not for their own good."

396

CHAPTER XXVII

THE BIG STICK DIPLOMACY

Roosevelt, an apt phrase maker, was ever willing to use his phrases as
weapons in his political battles. Through forceful diplomacy, and through his
readiness to brandish the big stick when necessary, he soon redefined the
Monroe Doctrine and showed the colonial powers of Europe that the Western
Hemisphere was not a safe place to exercise any extraterritorial ambitions.

Even as he assumed the Presidency, one major test of the Monroe Doctrine
was shaping up in South America. Through a revolution in 1899 Venezuela
had fallen into the hands of Cipriano Castro, who in Roosevelt's terminology
became "an unspeakably villainous little monkey." Under Castro's dictator-
ship the state fell far behind in meeting her financial obligations to the citizens
of other nations, and in July of 1901 Germany asked Venezuela to submit the
matter to arbitration at the Hague Tribunal for International Disputes. After
this was declined, and after the protracted negotiations yielded nothing,
Germany and England decided on stronger measures. On December 13, 1902,
they blockaded five Venezuelan ports, captured several gunboats, and sub-
mitted the town of Puerto Cabello to a British bombardment. In the face of
these actions, Castro agreed to arbitration — a step strongly endorsed by the
United States — and the claims were adjudicated without further military
measure.

This, at least, is one version of the affair. Thirteen years later, in 1915,
Roosevelt put it in a very different light by contending that Germany,
not Venezuela, had refused to submit to arbitration, and that Germany
backed down and agreed to go to the Hague only when he, Roosevelt,
informed the German Ambassador that the American fleet would be sent to
prevent any occupation of Venezuelan territory. This version, which assumes
Germany's motive to have been seizure of new territory in South Amer-
ica, was publicized by Roosevelt during World War I, when his feelings
against Germany were exceedingly intense.

The Venezuelan affair illustrated a problem that imposed continual strains
on the Monroe Doctrine. Unstable Latin-American regimes, often in the
hands of revolutionary parties, were prone to disregard debts or damages
owed to foreigners, and this in turn provided European powers with an easy
excuse for interfering in their internal affairs. In December of 1901, at the out-
set of the Venezuelan controversy, Roosevelt sought to keep this problem
within bounds by declaring in a message to Congress that the coercion of a
Latin-American state did not violate the Monroe Doctrine provided the
coercion did not "take the form of the acquisition of territory by any non-

397

American power." Or, as he had put it some six months earlier in a private
letter: "If any South American country misbehaves toward any European
country, let the European country spank it." The one reservation was that the
"spanking" could not include occupation.

In the wake of the Venezuelan controversy, however, Roosevelt decided
that this was not enough. By 1904 he had come to feel that if and when the
Latin-American countries needed spanking, the United States rather than
European powers should do it. This concept came to be known as the "Roose-
velt Corollary" to the Monroe Doctrine, and the President described it in
these words: "Brutal wrong-doing, or an impotence which results in a general
loosening of the ties of civilized society, may in America, as elsewhere, ulti-
mately require intervention by some civilized nation, and in the Western
Hemisphere the adherence of the United States to the Monroe Doctrine may
force the United States, however reluctantly, in flagrant cases of such wrong-
doing or impotence, to the exercise of an international police power."

Though such pronouncement drew sharp criticism from the anti-imperialists
at home and was denounced throughout Latin America as an attempt of
American imperialistic expansion, to the President it seemed elementary com-
mon sense. "If we are willing to let Germany or England act as the policeman
of the Caribbean," he wrote to Elihu Root, "then we can afford not to inter-
fere when gross wrong-doing occurs. But if we intend to say 'Hands off' to the
powers of Europe, sooner or later we must keep order ourselves." Someone, he
reasoned, had to play the role of stern father toward the weak and unstable
nations of the hemisphere. Far better that the role should be played by the
United States, which had no territorial ambitions in South America, than by
the land-hungry European nations.

Shortly after enunciating this expansion of the Monroe Doctrine, Roosevelt
proceeded to apply it to the "black Republic" of Santo Domingo, where
political disorder and mismanagement were chronic. "There was always fight-
ing, always plundering," Roosevelt wrote, "and the successful graspers for
governmental powers were always pawning ports and custom-houses, or try-
ing to put them up as guarantees for loans. ... So utter was the disorder that
on one occasion when Admiral Dewey landed to pay a call of ceremony on
the president, he and his party were shot at by revolutionists in crossing the
square, and had to return to the ships, leaving the call unpaid." By the close
of 1904 Santo Domingo's habit of defaulting on debts to foreign creditors had
raised the threat of punitive action by various European powers, and the re-
public appealed to the United States for help.

Roosevelt's reply was to arrange in February of 1905 a protocol under
which the United States took charge of the Dominican customhouses, turning
over 45 per cent of the customs receipts to Santo Domingo and putting the re-
mainder in a sinking fund in New York for the benefit of foreign creditors. Al-
though the President insisted that he was merely trying to forestall European
intervention and that he had no desire to annex Santo Domingo, the Senate
declined to ratify the protocol. Roosevelt disregarded the Senate's wishes, and
for the next twenty-eight months he carried out his plan by an executive

398

agreement. As a financial arrangement the protocol worked admirably;
customs receipts more than doubled under American management, and
European claims were settled within a few years. As a diplomatic arrange-
ment it headed off a threat of European intervention, but committed us to a
policy of continual involvement in the internal affairs of Central American
and Caribbean states.

"I felt," so Roosevelt wrote to John Hay on April 2, 1905, "that much less
trouble would come from action; but beyond doubt we shall have flurries in
connection with revolutionary uprisings and filibustering enterprises, as we
assume the protection of the custom-houses."

Although Roosevelt was generally an eager champion of arbitration in dis-
putes between other nations, he tended to be considerably less eager when the
United States was a party to the dispute. This was demonstrated by the con-
troversy involving the boundary between Alaska and British Columbia, which
achieved importance after the discovery of gold in the Klondike. Throughout
the year of 1 902 Roosevelt maintained his contention that the claims were "an
outrage, pure and simple," and that there was no justification for the Anglo-
Canadian request for arbitration. To the Englishman Arthur H. Lee's ques-
tion why America should not arbitrate, Roosevelt replied that "there are
cases where a nation has no business to arbitrate. If we suddenly claimed a
part of Nova Scotia you would not arbitrate."

In January 1903, however, he reluctantly consented to a treaty calling for
appointment of six "impartial jurists of repute" to fix the boundary line, with
three of the jurists to represent England and Canada and three to represent
the United States. To the consternation of the British and Canadians, Roose-
velt appointed as the American "impartial jurists of repute" Secretary of War
Root, ex-Senator George Turner of Washington, and the anti-Anglophile
Senator Lodge. In the end (and over the objections of the two Canadian com-
missioners, who declined to sign the document), and with the English Lord
Chief Justice voting with the Americans, the boundary line was drawn sub-
stantially on Roosevelt's terms. Years later the President wrote to Admiral
Mahan that "the settlement of the Alaskan boundary settled the last serious
trouble between the British Empire and ourselves. ..."

The "big stick" approach to diplomav-y was the object of much criticism,
and some aspects of it — most notably the "Roosevelt Corollary" to the Mon-
roe Doctrine — were eventually repudiated by subsequent administrations.
But it is important to remember that his assumption of the role of hemispheric
police chief was not a manifestation of commercial imperialism in the European
sense. If the business interests of America abroad benefited from his diplomacy,
that was incidental. In foreign policy, as in domestic, he tended to view prob-
lems in highly moral terms, and in most cases he managed to find a clear-cut
"right" and "wrong" to justify his position. Roosevelt regarded the big stick as
the righteous billy-club of a policeman whose duty was to enforce law
and order in an essentially wicked world.

399

FOREIGN POLICY UNDER ROOSEVELT

"THAT'S A LIVE WIRE, GENTLEMEN!" SAYS UNCLE SAM TO BRITAIN AND GERMANY

THE VENEZUELAN AFFAIR

At the opening of the century Venezuela's financial
affairs were in a dismal state. Large debts for public
work were accumulated; and when the foreign cred-

"IT'S UP TO YOU TO CAGE HIM!"

itors were unable to collect their bills, their govern-
ments assumed them. Great Britain, Germany, and
Italy pressed Venezuela for payment, but received
only promises. In July 1901 Germany proposed arbi-
tration of the issue before the Hague Tribunal.
Venezuela refused. For more than a year the negoti-
ations continued. On December 7, 1902, Venezuela
was handed a last ultimatum; on December 13, Ger-
man and English warships were in Venezuelan waters,
bombarding the fort of Puerto Gabello. This made
Venezuela ask for arbitration; on December 16 both
Great Britain and Germany accepted the offer and
the controversy was resolved.

Roosevelt's part in the affair was that of an inter-
mediary. He said: "If any South American State
misbehaves toward any European country, let the
European country spank it; but I do not wish the
United States or any other country to get additional
territory in South America." But when at one point
he felt that Germany hesitated to accept arbitration,
he threatened the German Ambassador in Wash-
ington with sending the American fleet to Venezuela,
making it certain that Germany would not attempt the
seizure of any territory in the Western Hemisphere.

400

THE BIG STICK IN THE CARIBBEAN SEA— ANOTHER WILLIAM A. ROGERS CARTOON

THE SANTO DOMINGO INCIDENT

In 1903 the Republic of Santo Domingo was not able
to meet her financial obligations. Payments to foreign
creditors were stopped. As President Roosevelt had
no desire to see a repetition of the Venezuelan affair,
he suggested to the Dominican government that the
United States be entrusted with the charge of custom
receipts, from which Santo Domingo's creditors
would then be paid.

Though the American Senate refused to sanction
such an arrangement, Roosevelt carried it out under
an executive agreement. For twenty-eight months
the United States supervised Santo D'omingo's cus-
tom receipts, paid the creditors, and stabilized that
country's finances. When Roosevelt was accused of
setting a precedent for imperialistic ventures, he said:
"I want to do nothing but what a policeman has to
do in Santo Domingo. As for annexing the island, I
have about the same desire to annex it as a gorged
boa constrictor might have to swallow a porcupine
wrong-cnd-to."

It was the Santo Domingo affair which brought
forth in 1904 Roosevelt's corollary to the Monroe
Doctrine: "Brutal wrong doing, or an impotence

which results in a general loosening of the ties of
civilized society, may finally require intervention by
some civilized nation, and in the Western Hemisphere
the United States cannot ignore this duty."

'IS THIS WHAT WE WANT?"

401

"GO AWAY, LITTLE MAN, AND DON'T BOTHER ME," says the caption of this
Charles Green Bush cartoon in the New York World. The gun is being pointed at the tiny
figure of Colombia, for whom Roosevelt had little use. "To talk of Colombia as a responsible
Power to be dealt with as we would deal with Holland or Belgium or Switzerland or Den-
mark is a mere absurdity," wrote Roosevelt some years after the event to William R. Thayer,
the biographer of John Hay. "The analogy is with a group of Sicilian or Calabrian bandits;
with Villa and Carranza at this moment. You could no more make an agreement with the
Colombian rulers than you could nail currant jelly to a wall — and the failure to nail currant
jelly to a wall is not due to the nail; it is due to the currant jelly. I did my best to get them
to act straight. Then I determined that I would do what ought to be done without regard
to them. The people of Panama were a unit in desiring the Canal and in wishing to over-
throw the rule of Colombia. If they had not revolted, I should have recommended Congress
to take possession of the Isthmus " Roosevelt was outraged that Colombia opposed him.

402

CHAPTER XXVIII

"I TOOK PANAMA"

The dream of an Isthmian canal to link the Atlantic and Pacific oceans at
Central America had fired people's imaginations for centuries. In 1850 the
United States and Great Britain had agreed in the Clayton-Bulwer Treaty that
any such undertaking would be a joint operation. Twenty-six years later, in
1876, a French stock company bought from Colombia a concession to build a
canal across the province of Panama, and the operation was put under the
direction of Ferdinand DeLesseps, the hero of Suez. But by 1888, after spend-
ing more than a quarter of a billion dollars, the company declared bankruptcy.

The United States had become increasingly apprehensive that an Isthmian
canal so near to its borders should be built under foreign auspices. Thus, after pro-
tracted negotiations with Great Britain, a treaty was concluded (the Hay-Paun-
cefote Treaty of 1901) by which Great Britain relinquished her rights leaving the
construction, operation, and fortification of any Isthmian canal to the United
States.

From the outset most experts in America favored the building of a canal
across Nicaragua rather than along the ill-fated route in Colombia. But when,
in 1894, the bankrupt Universal Inter-Oceanic Canal Company was reorgan-
ized as the New Panama Canal Company (with the sole purpose of selling its
concession from the Colombian government to the United States), the propa-
ganda for a Colombian canal caused a reversal in the thinking of the people.
The canal company hired William N. Cromwell, a New York attorney, as its
lobbyist (an assignment for which he later collected a fee of $800,000), and
his behind-the-scenes work was so success rul that in the Republican platform
of 1900 the words "an Isthmian canal" were substituted for the "Nicaragua
canal." The $60,000 campaign contribution given by Cromwell to the Repub-
licans from the canal company's fund probably helped to effect the change.

Still, the battle for the Colombian route was not yet won. The obstacle to it
was that ancient obstacle of mankind — money. For a while it looked as though
the New Panama Canal Company would be worsted by its own greed. In
response to inquiries from President McKinley's Isthmian Canal Commission
in 1901, it set the price of its rights at $109,141,000, whereupon the commis-
sion, contending that $40,000,000 was as much as the rights were worth, rec-
ommended the use of the Nicaraguan route. At this point the flamboyant
French engineer Philippe Bunau-Varilla, working with Cromwell for the
Colombian route, persuaded the directors of the canal company to cut their
price to the suggested $40,000,000. With the lower price, many who had orig-

403

inally favored Nicaragua were now for a canal through Colombia. President
Roosevelt was one of them.

Those who pressed for the Nicaraguan route suffered a severe disappointment
when in May 1902 the volcano Mount Montombo in Nicaragua erupted, a
sign from Heaven against that state. Bunau-Varilla hurriedly called on all
the stamp dealers in Washington and, within a matter of hours, had presented
each member of the Senate with a Nicaraguan stamp showing a volcano
"belching forth in magnificent eruption," a bad place to build a canal. Presently
Congress passed the Spooner Act, authorizing the purchase of the Panama
Company's concession for $40,000,000 — provided Colombia would cede to the
United States a strip of land across the Isthmus of Panama.

By January 22, 1903, Colombia's charg6 d'affaires in Washington was ready
to sign what came to be known as the Hay-Herran Treaty, granting the United
States a 100-year lease on a six-mile-wide strip of land across the Isthmus of
Panama. For this favor Colombia was to receive $10,000,000 besides annual
payments of $250,000. But when the treaty reached the Colombian Congress,
that body rejected it by a unanimous vote.

This refusal threw Roosevelt into a more than usual rage. Even before the
rejection of the American offer he had remarked that "those contemptible little
creatures in Bogota ought to understand how much they are jeopardizing things
and imperiling their own future." And when Colombia refused to ratify the
treaty the President told his Secretary of State that "we may have to give a
lesson to those jack rabbits." Roosevelt believed that the United States was
not only morally but legally justified in "interfering summarily and saying that
the canal is to be built and that they must not stop it," even if such a feat could
be brought about only through a revolution.

As it turned out there was no need for Roosevelt to indulge in any open "insti-
gation of a revolt." An uprising was already under way, stirred up by Bunau-
Varilla and Cromwell, secure in the knowledge that Washington would welcome
it. By mid- October Roosevelt was given the word that a revolt in Colombia
was forthcoming. However, even if it failed, "we should at once occupy the
Isthmus anyhow, and proceed to dig the canal."

Room 1162 of the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel in New York City became "the
cradle of the Panama Republic." There Bunau-Varilla set up his headquar-
ters, there he drew up a declaration of independence and a Panamanian con-
stitution, there the "agile and discreet fingers" of his wife stitched the future
flag of liberation. There, also, on October 14, came Dr. Manuel Amador,
company physician of the Panama Railroad and Steamship Company, soon
to be President of the new republic. Bunau-Varilla told Amador that $100,000
would be provided to underwrite the revolt, which was to take place on
November 3. The exact date was set after the volatile Frenchman had learned
from Secretary of State Hay that the Navy had ordered several ships of the
Pacific fleet to proceed to Colombian waters. Later the date of the rebellion
had to be postponed by twenty-four hours to allow time for the U.S.S. Nashville
to reach the Atlantic side of the Isthmus.

All the preparations were carefully mapped out. General Huertas, head of

404

the Colombian Army detachment in Panama City, was to be the rebel com-
mander in chief, and his soldiers would receive $50 apiece for joining him. To
supplement the bribed Huertas soldiers a revolutionary "army" made up of
300 railway section workers and the 287-man fire brigade of Panama City was
pressed into action. The American naval commanders were instructed to pre-
vent the landing of troops within 50 miles of Panama. And when — regardless
of all precautions — 500 Colombian troops landed at Bogota, they were quickly
bribed and prevailed upon to sail away instead of marching into Panama City.

Everything went according to plan; within hours the rebels were successful.
On November 4 the troops of General Huertas were paid their $50 apiece in
gold by Dr. Amador, who told them: "The world is astonished by your hero-
ism! . . . Long live the Republic of Panama! Long live President Roosevelt!"
There was no bloodshed. The only casualties were a Chinaman and his dog,
killed by a shell fired from a Colombian gunboat.

With Panama's independence proclaimed by the revolutionists, Roosevelt
and his Secretary of State worked with remarkable speed. One hour and fif-
teen minutes after the White House had received word that independence had
been achieved, the American Consul in Panama City was instructed to extend
de facto recognition to the new regime. Bunau-Varilla, who had remained in
the United States, installed himself as Panamanian Minister to Washington.
By November 1 7 he had concluded a treaty with the American Secretary of
State, setting up the canal zone and conferring on the Republic of Panama
the $10,000,000 down payment that had originally been offered to Colombia.
And, of course, the stockholders of the New Panama Canal Company were to
receive the $40,000,000 guaranteed by the Spooner Act.

Americans in general, intrigued by the prospect of an Isthmian canal, had
no inclination to examine with critical eye the means that were used to achieve
it, though there was a large and vocal minority which bitterly censured the Pres-
ident for what seemed an immoral land grab at the expense of a weaker nation.
To these critics Roosevelt replied sharply that the Colombian political leaders
were "inefficient bandits," and he claimed that, far from inciting the revolu-
tionists, he had "simply ceased to stamp out the different revolutionary fuses
that were already burning."

Eight years later, in a candid speech at the University of California, Roose-
velt confessed: "If I had followed conventional, conservative methods, I should
have submitted a dignified state paper of approximately two hundred pages
to the Congress and the debate would have been going on yet, but I took the
canal zone and let Congress debate, and while the debate goes on the canal
does also." It was this statement that helped Colombia to wage a campaign
for the payment of an indemnity from the United States. For years Roosevelt's
friends in the Senate blocked the Wilson administration's effort to apologize
to Colombia and to pay the indemnity. After Roosevelt was dead, the Harding
government paid $25,000,000 to Colombia. As "conscience money" it was
slight. The worth of the Panama Canal to the United States was many times
that sum.

405

THE FIRST EFFORT TO BUILD A CANAL

It was in Colombia across the province of Panama, and it ended in disaster. The prime
mover behind it was DeLesseps, the successful builder of the Suez Canal. From 1879
till 1888 the work went on. That year, after more than a quarter of a billion dollars
had been spent, the company went bankrupt, a victim of poor management, unlucky
engineering, and the ravages of yellow fever. Machinery was abandoned to fill the ditches, and
everything came to a halt. In 1894 the bankrupt company had been reorganized as the New
Panama Canal Company, started to dig again, and hoped to sell its concession from the
Colombian government to the United States for the asking price of $109,141,000. In June
1901 the Spooner Act authorized the purchase of the Panama Company's concession for
$40,000,000, provided Colombia would cede to the United States a strip of land across the
Isthmus of Panama. And if Colombia refused, the canal would be built through Nicaragua.

406

THE CULEBRA CUT-A SECTION OF THE PANAMA CANAL

"The people of the United States and the people of the Isthmus and the rest of mankind
will all be the better because we dig the Panama Canal and keep order in the neighborhood,"
wrote Roosevelt to Cecil Spring-Rice in January 1904. Around the same time he told Sam-
uel W. Small: 'To my mind this building of the canal through Panama will rank in kind,
though not of course in degree, with the Louisiana Purchase and the acquisition of Texas.
I can say with entire conscientiousness that if in order to get the treaty through and start
building the canal it were necessary for me forthwith to retire definitely from politics, I
should be only too glad to make the arrangement accordingly, for it is the amount done in
office, and not length of time in office, that makes office worth having." Some years later,
in 1911, in viewing the events in retrospect, Roosevelt declared: "I took the Isthmus,
started the Canal, and then left Congress, not to debate the Canal, but to debate me."

407

SHADE Of THE IMMORTAL GEQRGE—"WHERE'S MY HATCHET?"

AN ANTI-IMPERIALIST CARTOON. The Colonel of the Rough Riders plants a seed-
ling tree with fruits labeled Philippines, Panama, Porto Rico, Santo Domingo, Hawaii,
Guam. About his imperialist beliefs Roosevelt wrote: "Nations that expand and nations that
do not expand may both ultimately go down, but the one leaves heirs and a glorious memory,
and the other leaves neither." And he argued that "every expansion of a great civilized
power means a victory for law, order and righteousness. This has been the case in every
instance of expansion during the present century, whether the expanding power were
France or England, Russia or America. In every instance the expansion has been of benefit,
not so much to the power nominally benefited, as to the whole world. In every instance
the result proved that the expanding power was doing a duty to civilization far greater and
more important than could have been done by any stationary power."

408

CHAPTER XXIX

TOWARD THE PRESIDENCY
OF HIS OWN

The Presidency is an elective office, and Roosevelt was President only by
accident. This troubled him. He desired to become President in his own right,
he wanted to be sent to the White House by the mandate of the people. To
attain his goal he laid careful plans, and he worked toward it with great diH-
gence. Historically, the precedents were against him; no previous Vice Presi-
dent who had come into the high office through the death of his predecessor
had ever been nominated for the Presidency. Neither John Tyler nor Millard
Fillmore, Andrew Johnson nor Chester A. Arthur were able to succeed them-
selves. Roosevelt felt that these precedents were of a past era and that there
were new rules which applied to him.

He campaigned for his election in many different ways. He courted the
newspaper correspondents, holding press conferences and establishing a special
room in the White House for their use. He went before the people on extensive
speaking tours, outlining his policies and political philosophy, and by his energy,
his versatility, his informality, and his outspokenness won their admiration.

He expected the support of the rank and file, but he was apprehensive about
the business and financial leaders. During a speaking tour in 1903 he told a
friend: "They've finished me. I have no machine, no faction, no money." He
was prone to indulge in picturing his future in gloomy colors, even though at
every stop of his tour tremendous crowds gathered around his platforms. In
such a mood, the cheers meant nothing. "They came to see the President much
as they would have come to see a circus," he remarked sadly.

Roosevelt realized that he had to gain he support of big business and of Wall
Street, that he must lure "the captains of industry" and the "malefactors of
great wealth" into his fold. Thus, he began to make conciliatory gestures
toward them, and he compromised whenever his conscience permitted it. On
the tariff question, which he determined to be "a mere matter of expediency"
rather than a moral issue, he kept silent so that neither the low-tariff supporters
from the West nor the high-tariff priests of the East should be offended. He
backed the Elkins Act, which forbade the granting of rebates to shippers,
an essentially weak bill, drawn up with the aid and consent of the railroads
themselves, who had no desire to reduce the excessive freight rates. One of his
biggest political compromises came early in 1904, when by executive order he
provided pensions for all veterans between the ages of 62 and 70, whether dis-
abled or not, at an annual cost of some $5,000,000. Meanwhile, he included

409

among his political appointments a number of men quite frankly chosen for
their ability to enlist Roosevelt-pledged delegates to the nominating convention.

As he worried about his prospects of becoming President in his own right,
his concern turned upon the figure of Mark Hanna, the chairman of the
Republican National Committee, the man who might block his way. It was
true that various big business interests hoped to boom Hanna for the Presi-
dency as a means of getting rid of Roosevelt, but Hanna realized Roosevelt's
hold on the voters, and he knew that he could not challenge him without
splitting the party in two.

Nevertheless, Roosevelt watched Hanna's moves with suspicion, and when
the opportunity presented itself he went after the Senator and in a masterful
political stroke eliminated him as a rival for the nomination. A few months
later Hanna died, giving Roosevelt the opportunity to select a new chairman
of the Republican National Committee — a post of great importance in view
of the forthcoming presidential campaign. He chose his former private secre-
tary, George B. Cortelyou, who a year earlier had left his staff to head the
newly created Department of Commerce and Labor. Cortelyou's appointment
— actively opposed by Senator Platt and the Old Guard — proved Roosevelt's
domination over the Republican organization. It reflected his determination
to have the chairmanship in the hands of a man who "will manage the canvass
on a capable and absolutely clean basis," as "my canvass cannot be managed
on any other lines either with propriety or with advantage. If I win this year
it will be because the bulk of the people believe I am a straightforward, decent
and efficient man. ..."

Thus, when the Republicans assembled in Chicago for their convention, there
was no other candidate before them but Roosevelt, and they nominated him
by acclamation. The pervading dullness of the proceedings was relieved by an
episode that dramatized the Roosevelt administration's forthright approach to
diplomatic questions. In far-off Morocco the wealthy American citizen Ion
Perdicaris had been kidnaped by the bandit chieftain Raisuli. The chief treated
Perdicaris well, and when the dispute between him and the Sultan of Morocco
(the reason for the kidnaping) had been resolved he was ready to release his
captive. It was then that Secretary of State Hay, after consultation with Roose-
velt, sent to the American Consul in Tangiers the peremptory message: "We
want Perdicaris alive or Raisuli dead." The message, when it reached the
Republican convention, created a jubilant uproar. "It was magnificent — mag-
nificent!" Senator Depew exclaimed in behalf of his fellow delegates. And
Secretary Hay recorded in his diary: "My telegram to Gunmere had an
uncalled-for success. It is curious how a concise impropriety hits the public."

The platform of the Republicans, built to the President's specifications by
Senator Lodge, pictured the party as the guardian of the Monroe Doctrine
and the champion of economic prosperity. Its policies were not radical nor reac-
tionary— they were middle-of-the-road.

The Democrats, meeting in St. Louis, were firmly under the control of the
"Safe-and-Saners" — the Eastern conservatives who had joined forces to pre-
vent Bryan from seizing the nomination for a third time. Their platform

410

accused Roosevelt of various unlawful and unconstitutional actions and spoke
of his administration as "sporadic, erratic, sensational, spectacular and arbi-
trary." For their presidential candidate they chose conservative Judge Alton B.
Parker of New York, whom the Bryan faction termed as being "under the
control of the Wall Street element." For the second place they nominated
ex-Senator Henry G. Davis of West Virginia, a man of eighty-two and of
considerable wealth. Republicans soon chided their opponents for nominating
"an enigma from New York and a reminiscence from West Virginia."

One of the reasons for Parker's nomination was the Democrats' hope that
he would appeal to the normally Republican big businessmen who distrusted
the erratic Roosevelt. Logically, such strategy should have worked; actually
it did not. The conservative New York Sun, summing up Wall Street's attitude,
printed a one-line editorial — only five words. It said: "Theodore! with all thy
faults — ." Later the newspaper explained that it preferred "the impulsive can-
didate of the party of conservatism to the conservative candidate of the party
which the business interests regard as permanently and dangerously impulsive."

As election day drew near Roosevelt grew alarmed. Every contest filled his
heart with dark foreboding. This time he became apprehensive that the State
of New York with its heavy electoral vote might turn Democratic. Obsessed
with what Secretary Hay diagnosed as the traditional "October scare" com-
mon to political candidates, the President made personal appeals to such
capitalists as Edward H. Harriman, the railroad king, and steel man Henry C.
Frick. Harriman hurriedly raised $250,000 for the Republican campaign chest.
Eight years later, when a Senate committee analyzed the Republican receipts,
it was found that nearly three fourths of the money (over two million dollars)
was collected from big corporations and trusts.

Cortelyou's collections from big business provoked the Democratic candidate
to charge that the donors were being "blackmailed" by promises of political
immunity. Roosevelt struck back with an indignant denial in which he de-
scribed the charges as "monstrous" and concluded: "The assertion that there
has been made any pledge or promise or that there has been any understanding
as to future immunities or benefits in recognition of any contribution from any
source is a wicked falsehood."

The result of the election showed the t Roosevelt need not have been scared.
The Democrats carried no states outside the Solid South, and even Missouri
broke precedent by going Republican. The electoral margin was 336 to 140,
while Roosevelt's popular majority of 2,540,067 was the largest in the history
of presidential elections. The President, who voted at Oyster Bay and then
returned to Washington to receive the election returns at the White House,
was elated. In the flush of victory he told reporters: "Under no circumstances
will I be a candidate for or accept another nomination," a statement which
he was to regret later.

To his son Kermit he wrote: "I am stunned by the overwhelming victory
we have won. I had no conception such a thing was possible." And to his wife he
summed up the cause of his deep satisfaction with the words: "I am no longer
a political accident."

411

THE TRUSTBUSTER

"The Northern Securities suit is one of the great
achievements of my administration," wrote Roosevelt
to George Cortelyou, and he added, "for through it
we emphasized in signal fashion, as in no other way
could be emphasized, the fact that the most power-
ful men in this country were held to accountability
before the law." Roosevelt felt that "a moral stand-
ard" must be set up for the very rich, who in "their
greed and arrogance . . . and the corruption in busi-

ness and politics have tended to produce a very un-
healthy condition of excitement and irritation in the
popular mind. ..." So he wrote in his letter to
William Howard Taft on March 15, 1906. Roosevelt
focused public attention on the wrongdoing of the
trusts, instigating twenty-five suits against them, de-
manding their dissolution, which led to indictments
under the Sherman Act. And the American elector-
ate approved the "trust-busting" President's vigorous
fight against the large industrial combinations.

OUCH!— A BERNARD GILLAM CARTOON IN JUDGE, APRIL 16, 1904

•K^

412

April 29, 1903:

TAKING HIS CASE BEFORE THE PEOPLE

Explaining his legislative program in Hannibal, Mo.

Mart ,.fWHr

ia *.

ar««ol*ti<

it MOMMI? for HM to

tte f*ots X MI «ur« you

M A

JOCKEYING FOR THE NOMINATION. While
Roosevelt toured the West, attempting to secure
his nomination in 1904, politicians intrigued behind
the scenes. The man whom Roosevelt most feared
was the Republican National Chairman, Senator
Mark Hanna of Ohio. He had forebodings that
Hanna, supported by conservative Republicans and

Wall Street interests, might either become a candidate
himself (which Hanna denied) or might block his
nomination. When Joseph B. Foraker, the junior
senator of Ohio, precipitated a showdown by suggest-
ing that the Ohio State Convention endorse Roose-
velt a year ahead of time, Hanna sent the above
telegram to the President, who was then in Seattle.

THE DRAFT OF ROOSEVELT'S ANSWER to the issue "has been raised, of course those who favor
Senator Hanna. "I have not asked any man for his my administration and my nomination will favor
support," the President told Hanna. But inasmuch as endorsing both and those who do not will oppose."

416

THE OUTMANEUVERED HANNA surrendered
Forced by his colleague, Senator Foraker, on one
side and by President Roosevelt on the other, he ac-
knowledged defeat. To the President's telegram he
answered: "In view of the sentiment expressed I shall
not oppose the endorsement of your administration
and candidacy by our State Convention."

THE REPUBLICAN TICKET

In their Chicago convention the
Republicans nominated Theodore
Roosevelt for the Presidency and
Charles W. Fairbanks of Indiana
for the second place.

They were opposed by Alton
B. Parker and Henry G. Davis,
the choice of the Democrats.
Parker, presiding judge of the
New York Court of Appeals, was
a conservative, "safe and sane"
candidate, while the 81 -year-old
Davis of West Virginia was
nothing more than an extremely
wealthy man. Still, the opposi-
tion could not beat the "unsafe"
Roosevelt with the "safe" Parker.
Outside the Solid South the Dem-
ocrats did not carry a single state.

Roosevelt was elated. He had showed "that the
time had come to stop shilly shallying" and he had
let the Republican Chairman know "that I did not
intend to assume the position, at least passively, of a
supplicant to whom he might give the nomination
as a boon." And he confessed to intimates that the
affair gave him "a new and vivid interest in life."

417

PUTTING THE SCREWS ON! A cartoon by Joseph Kcppler in Puck shows George B.
Cortelyou, the Republican National Chairman, squeezing money out of the trusts. When
later an investigation was held, it came to light that 72 per cent of the $2,195,000 which
Cortelvou collected for the Republican campaign fund came from large corporations. The
directors of Standard Oil contributed $100,000; E. H. Harriman donated $50,000 and
collected $200,000 more. J. P. Morgan gave $150,000; George J. Gould, $100,000; Henry
C. Frick, $50,000. Joseph Pulitzer's New York World wondered publicly whether the reason
for the big businessmen's contributions was the hope of buying protection. The newspaper
wanted to know how much money the beef, the paper, the coal, the sugar, and other trusts
contributed. But Roosevelt and Cortelyou remained silent; they would not answer the World.

418

HE'S GOOD ENOUGH FOR ME! HOMER DAVENPORT'S FAMOUS CARTOON IN 1904.

PRESIDENT ON HIS OWN

NO THIRD TERM! Dalrymple's cartoon in Judge
refers to Roosevelt's statement which he issued on
election night: "On the 4th of March next I shall
have served three and a half years and this three and
a half years constitutes my first term. The wise
custom which limits the President to two terms
regards the substance and not the form. Under no
circumstances will I be a candidate for or accept
another nomination." Years later he told a friend:
"I would cut my hand off right there," indicating
his wrist, "if I could recall that written statement."

ALL HIS OWN! A CARTOON IN PUCK

AVE THEODORE! WAS THE TITLE OF JOSEPH

Inauguration day was a jubilant one for Roosevelt.
The night before, he said to a friend: "Tomorrow I
shall come into my office in my own right. Then
watch out for me!" John Hay, once Lincoln's secre-
tary, presented him with a ring which supposedly
contained some of Lincoln's hair, cut from his head
after the assassination, and the deeply touched
Roosevelt wore it when he took the oath.

Riding down Pennsylvania Avenue, the bands
played "There'll Be A Hot Time in the Old Town

420

KEPPLER'S CARTOON IN PUCK IN WHICH ROOSEVELT APPEARED AS ROMAN EMPEROR

Tonight"; thirty members of his old regiment as his
special guard of honor were galloping next to his
carriage. "And there was every variety of civic
organization," he described the event to George Otto
Trevelyan in England, "including a delegation of
coal miners with a banner recalling that I had settled
the anthracite coal strike; Porto Ricans and Philip-
pine Scouts; old-style Indians, in their war paint and
with horses painted green and blue and red and
yellow, with their war bonnets of eagles' feathers

and their spears and tomahawks, followed by the
new Indians, the students of Hampton and Carlisle;
sixty or seventy cowboys; farmers clubs; mechanics
clubs — everybody and everything. Many of my old
friends with whom I had lived on the ranches and
worked in the roundups in the early days came on
to see me inaugurated."

And to his father's brother he wrote: "How I wish
Father could have lived to see it too! You stood
to me for him and for all that generation . . ."

421

CHAPTER XXX

AMERICA IN 1905

At the time Theodore Roosevelt was elected to the Vice Presidency — the
year was 1900 — the Literary Digest editorialized: "The ordinary 'horseless car-
riage' is at present a luxury for the wealthy; and altho its price will probably
fall in the future, it will never, of course, come into as common use as the
bicycle." Five years later — the year was 1905 — when Roosevelt took the oath as
President in his own right, this prophecy seemed already absurd. Some 78,000
automobiles were in use across the nation; quantity production methods were
already bringing the "rich man's toy" within reach of families of modest income.

These, too, were the years in which man's timeless dream of learning to fly-
lea pt toward incredible fruition. In 1903 the whole world had skeptically
watched as a distinguished American scientist, Professor Samuel P. Langley,
attempted to launch from atop a houseboat near Widewater, Virginia, a flying
machine built with a War Department subsidy. The plane plunged into the
sea "like a handful of mortar," fulfilling, as one newspaper put it, the "fondest
expectations of its critics." Humorists had a field day; they suggested that the
vehicle should have been hitched to the price of beef, that it might have flown
had it been launched upside down. "Here is $100,000 of the people's money
wasted on this scientific navigation experiment," snorted Congressman Robin-
son of Indiana, "because some man, perchance a professor wandering in his
dreams, was able to impress the officers that his scheme had some utility."

Yet just nine days after Langley's final fiasco, while the world was still
laughing, two persistent and mechanically inclined brothers did what the public
knew couldn't be done. On December 17, 1903, on the windswept sand dunes
of Kitty Hawk, North Carolina, Wilbur and Orville Wright put a flying ma-
chine aloft for 12 seconds. The initial flignt covered only 120 feet; for the first
time a machine carrying a man had flown by its own power.

Almost simultaneously with the birth of the air age came a development that
was to rival the automobile in its revolutionary effect on American manners
and mores. Before the turn of the century Thomas A. Edison's moving-picture
device, the kinetoscope, had been installed in box-like slot machines for the
amusement of customers in penny arcades. By 1900 the pictures were being
projected on open screens in theaters where they served as "chasers" between
vaudeville acts. Three years later the real possibilities of motion pictures were
recognized when Edwin S. Porter, Edison's cameraman, produced the melo-
drama The Great Train Robbery. Improvised five-cent theaters known as "nick-
elodeons" sprang up all over the country, and by the end of the decade movies
were well on their way to becoming an established form of entertainment.

MARCH 4, 1905: 423

President in his own right.

The legitimate stage prospered as never before. Maude Adams, Ethel Barry-
more, Julia Marlowe, Ada Rehan, Richard Mansfield, William Gillette, John
Drew, E. H. Sothern played before full houses. On the musical stage the big-
gest name was Victor Herbert, whose initial success had come with Babes in
Toyland in 1903, while Florenz Ziegfeld was preparing to put musical comedy
on a new basis with the first of his Ziegfeld Follies, produced in 1907. In opera
the year 1905 marked the debut of a native American soprano, Geraldine
Farrar, and a wave of excitement over the talents of a young Italian tenor,
Enrico Caruso, who had completed his first American tour and whose voice
would soon be projected through Edison's new-fangled "gramophone" to
countless Americans who never saw him in the flesh.

One reason for the growth of the entertainment industry was the fact that
the average American of 1905 had more leisure time than his forebears of a
generation, or even a decade, earlier. The six-day week was being modified
by a half-holiday on Saturday; and while the ten-hour day was still common,
the federal government had presaged its passing, specifying an eight-hour day
for government contractors. Meanwhile, the new inventions in transportation
greatly increased the public's opportunities for the enjoyment of leisure. For
a few pennies, city dwellers could take the electric trolley cars to beaches and
amusement parks on the outskirts of town. With the increased leisure, also,
came an increased interest in sports, and particularly in "spectator sports."
Organized baseball, a thriving industry before the turn of the century, was
enhanced with the introduction of the World Series in 1903, and college foot-
ball was already being deplored on the grounds of professionalism and over-
emphasis. "Baseball and football matches," reported James Bryce in 1905,
"excite an interest greater than any other public events except the Presidential
election, and that comes only once in four years."

Except for a few genteel diversions like lawn tennis and sidesaddle horseback
riding, women were still excluded from most sports. In politics their influence
was negligible. Though ex-President Cleveland said that "sensible and respon-
sible women do not want to vote," the "weaker sex" had already obtained
that right in Wyoming, Utah, Colorado, and Idaho. More significantly, women
were becoming a vital factor in the work force. By the end of the decade more
than eight million of them wefre employed.

In their clothing there was little emancipation. In dry weather skirts were
still expected to come within an inch or two of the ground. The bustle was
rapidly going out of style (though a newspaper item of 1905 reported that a
Minneapolis woman waiting for a train had "lost her bustle in which was five
hundred dollars"). Boned collars were much in style, as were "peek-a-boo"
waists. Hats were customarily enormous variations on the sailor hat, and hair
was curled and puffed up with the aid of "rats" or rolls. In men's clothing dark
blue serge was still the standard, and derby hats were reaching a peak of popu-
larity. A few daring men were beginning to wear wrist watches, though this
was generally frowned on as a sign of effeminacy.

Despite the phenomenal growth of Chicago and other cities, New York
remained the undisputed center of fashion and fashionable society. Along Fifth

424

Avenue and on Riverside Drive the great barons of the new industrialism dis-
played their wealth with proud vulgarity in palaces that dwarfed many of the
city's public buildings. The Vanderbilt family's mansions occupied six blocks
of frontage; Carnegie's establishment at the corner of 91st Street boasted fifty
rooms and a miniature golf course; Charles Schwab's residence on Riverside
Drive — completed in 1905 — contained seventy-five rooms, forty baths, and a
refrigerator capable of holding twenty tons of beef; Henry C. Prick's mansion,
that was to make Carnegie's "look like a miner's shack," was in construction —
when completed nearly a decade later, it had cost close to $17,000,000.

Throughout the first decade of the century Mrs. William Astor remained
the unquestioned empress of New York society. Her social prime minister, Ward
McAllister (who once said that "a fortune of only a million is respectable
poverty"), originated the term "Four Hundred" to describe the number of per-
sons who could be comfortably accommodated in her ballroom; and for the
better part of two decades the guest list for her lavishly dull annual ball was
accepted as the Who's Who of New York society. Mrs. Astor's principal rival
was Mrs. Stuyvesant Fish; her extravagant entertainments presided over by
her social factotum, Harry Lehr, included a lavish "dog dinner" at which the
dogs of Mrs. Fish's friends were invited to feast on pate defoie gras and similar
delicacies. But even Lehr's talent for conspicuous waste was outdone when
James Hazen Hyde, the insurance tycoon, staged at Sherry's a $100,000 cos-
tume ball modeled in every detail on the court entertainments of Louis XIV.

Such extravagance contrasted bitterly with the poverty of New York's hun-
dreds of thousands of slum dwellers. The effort to provide decent housing for
the city's working people had scarcely begun; the population density of more
than one thousand persons per acre in lower Manhattan exceeded even the
congestion of overpopulated cities of India. In many of the tenements most of
the bedrooms were windowless, and bathtubs were a rarity.

To these dark, foul-smelling, demoralizing slums flocked an ever-increasing
flood of immigrants from abroad. In 1905, for the first time, the total number
of immigrants exceeded one million, with Italy and eastern Europe as the
principal sources. Many of the newcomers went to work in the sweatshops of
New York; others were absorbed by the textile mills of New England, the steel
mills of Pittsburgh, the stockyards of Chicago, and the bituminous coal fields
of Pennsylvania. Illiterate and unfamiliar with the law, the immigrant was a
natural target for unscrupulous employers and tradesmen. "Right off the boat"
became a standard term for a gullible person; it was even reported that one
designing New York taxi driver put an immigrant on the Third Avenue ele-
vated, collected several hundred dollars from him, and told him the train
would take him to Kansas City.

It was the wide disparity between irresponsible wealth and grinding poverty
that bred the progressive movement which began in the early 1890s and
gathered its greatest force in the first decades of the twentieth century.

425

IN NEW YORK CITY

A FASHIONABLE ARTIST'S STUDIO. Charles
Dana Gibson, the creator of the popular Gibson girls.

THE CHILDREN'S PLAYGROUND. The young-
sters have no eyes for the dead horse on the pavement.

A MOVIE SET in New York's Vitagraph studio,
where many of the early film-dramas were made.

THE CHANGING SCENE ON FIFTH AVENUE

Compare this picture taken in 1905 with other
Fifth Avenue pictures on pages 190, 276 and 299.

TAKE A LETTER, MISS KINNEY. Women secretaries became the mode. They handled
the newfangled devices— the telephone, the typewriter and other office equipment— better
than their male counterpart. They were neat, too, in white aprons and starched blouses.

LADIES PREFERRED dark veils to protect their
delicate nostrils when playing a game of tennis.

HOW TO ENTER THE AUTO

A page of photographic instruction
in Leslie's Weekly. March 31, 1904.

OPERATING TELEPHONES was another of the
professions in which the fair sex was predominant.

429

MOVING ON LAND . . .

MILLIONAIRES TOOK A FANCY TO THE HORSELESS CARRIAGE. At the

opening of the century only wealthy people bought automobiles, although the prices of the
early vehicles were not prohibitive. Here John Jacob Astor drives one of his first cars.

FORD IN HIS FIRST CAR

It was in 1896 that the machinist
Henry Ford, in a shed behind his
Detroit house, came up with a gas-
oline-engine vehicle. Ford's dream
was a universal car, to be sold
cheaply and in quantities. In 1903
he organized his own company.

AN EARLY ADVERTISEMENT. Miss Frances Bel-
mont, one of the girls of the celebrated Floradora Sex-
tet, in an air-cooled Franklin car of 1904. A Floradora
girl in an automobile was an advertising man's dream.

430

. . . AND FLYING INTO THE SKIES

EXPERIMENTS IN FLYING. The brother* Wilbur and Orville Wright took up aeronau-
tics as a pastime. Influenced by the German Otto Lilienthars experiments, they built gliders;
in 1902 they were able to fly their machine for 26 seconds, covering a run of 622V2 feet.

THE WRIGHT BROTHERS— Orville and Wilbur
— in Europe, where in 1908 and 1909 they demon-
strated their machine. In France and in Italy hun-
dreds of thousands turned out to see their plane take
to the air. European countries started to manufacture
the Wrights' invention, but not until late 1910 did an
American company begin to make aeroplanes,
producing about two of the craft each month.

THE BICYCLE SHOP in Dayton, Ohio, where the
first motor-driven aeroplane was designed. The ma-
chine was tested at Kitty Hawk, N.C., on December
17, 1903. It flew! Orville wired his father: "Success
four flights Thursday morning all against twenty-one
mile wind. Started from level with engine power alone.
Average speed through air thirty-one miles longest
fifty-nine seconds. Inform press. Home Christmas/'

431

A MEDICAL SCHOOL FOR WOMEN. On January 14, 1904, Leslie's Weekly published
the above picture of the Woman's Medical College of Pennsylvania, calling it a "remark-
able clinic, at which the patient, the operators, and the witnesses were all women."

THE CITY ROOM of the

Brooklyn Daily Eagle at the time
Roosevelt became President "in
his own right." The press at this
time was overwhelmingly and
enthusiastically behind Roose-
velt; only a few conservative
newspapers, foremost among
them the New York Sun, were
against him. He was riding the
crest of the wave; he was at the
height of his popularity. News-
papermen were his friends; they
admired and they loved him be-
cause he gave them colorful
copy, he created news, he served
them with spicy controversies,
zestful excitement, and sheer fun.

432

"GET A HORSE! AND IF A HORSE IS NOT AVAILABLE, A DONKEY WILL DO!"

As motor cars multiplied, so did the jokes about them. It was easy to make fun of the helpless
vehicles bogged down on impossible roads and no experienced mechanic in a hundred miles.

AWE-INSPIRING was the sight
of Roy Knabenshue's balloon.
On June 30, 1906, the aviator
made a successful ascent in his
airship at Toledo. He started
from the fairgrounds and flew
three miles against a heavy wind,
and after twenty-five minutes in
the air he landed on the roof of
a ten-story office building.

Two weeks before, Knabenshue
sailed around the dome of the
Capitol at Washington. At that
time so many senators and rep-
resentatives left their desks to
watch the spectacle that for an
hour it was not possible to get
a quorum in either assembly.

433

ENRICO CARUSO (1873-1921)

the Italian grand opera tenor from Naples, the eight-
eenth son of his parents and the first who survived
infancy, opened his first season at the Metropolitan
Opera on November 21, 1903, singing in Rigolttto.
The world of music immediately acclaimed him.

MAUDE ADAMS (1872-1953)

became the darling of theater audiences when she
played Peter Pan in the fairy tale by James Barrie,
which ran on Broadway from the fall of 1903 until
the summer of 1 906. After that she appeared in Quality
Street, What Every Woman Knows, and other Barrie plays.

FLORADORA was one of the most successful musi-
cals at the turn of the century. It starred six attractive,
vivacious, and charming young ladies — the Floradora
Sextet — who soon became the talk of the nation. It
was opened in 1 901 , continued the following year, and
before it closed had chalked up a record of 547 per-
formances. After New York, the company played most
of the big cities of America. At the tour's end in 1905
the popular demand in New York was still so great
that the musical was obliged to return to Broadway.

434

ETHEL BARRYMORE (1879-1959) *

the daughter of Maurice and Georgiana Drew Barry-
more and the sister of John and Lionel, belonged to
the celebrated "royal family" of actors. In 1905,
around Roosevelt's inauguration, she appeared in
Ibsen's A Doll's House. "Ibscene," wrote one critic.

THE SEASON OF 1905 was studded with remark-
able dramatic plays. Mrs. Fiske played with George
Arliss of London (on the right) in Leah Kleschna.
David Warfield drew packed houses with The Music
Master, held over from the previous year. Forbes
Robertson played Hamlet, "the only Hamlet of the
modern world." Sarah Bernhardt played Magda,
Sappho, Phedre, and La Dame aux Camelias. Bernard
Shaw's Mrs. Warren's Profession was suppressed by the
police after its first showing in New York on October 3 1 .

435

LILLIAN RUSSELL (1861-1922)

was the toast of Broadway when she played Lady
Teazle in the musical version of Sheridan's The School
for Scandal. On the stage since 1879, she thrilled
audiences not only with her beauty and acting, but
with the amorous adventures of her private life.

SOCIETY. Members of the elegant Four Hundred have a friendly chat before the Casino
of Newport, R.I., which was then one of the most fashionable summer resorts of the nation.

THE VANDERBILTS

Millionaire Alfred Gwynne Vander-
bilt I was a coaching enthusiast.
Once, in 1901, he and James Hazen
Hyde raced their tallyhos from New
York to Philadelphia. The race re-
quired 78 horses; it took 9 hours 25
minutes one way and 10 hours 10
minutes for the other, with a six-
minute "rest" between. Next to
Vanderbilt is his first wife, Elsie
French, who divorced him in 1908,
receiving a settlement often million
dollars. Behind him, in the center,
is his sister Gladys, who later became
the wife of the celebrated Hungarian
diplomat Count L£szl6 Sz6chenyi.

TENNIS ENTHUSIASTS. Alice Roosevelt, the leading light of American society, arrives
with two of her friends at the Newport Casino to be a spectator at the seasonal matches.

THE HARRIMANS

Railroad executive Edward Henry
Harriman, like other prominent New
Yorkers of wealth, enjoyed the sport
of driving a four-in-hand. Coaching
clubs, imitating their English count-
erparts, became the order of the
day. Madison Square and the near-
by hostelries were the center of the
coaching fraternity. From clubs and
other approved stations the drags
paraded up Fifth Avenue, entering
Central Park at 59th Street. On the
sidewalks crowds watched the pic-
turesque prancing of the four horses,
the immaculate drivers, and their
beautifully dressed lady companions.

CONEY ISLAND WAS THE MOST POPULAR HOT- WEATHER PLACE

BY THE SEA, by the sea, by the beautiful sea,

You and I, you and I, oh! how happy we'll be!

When each wave comes a-rolling in,

We will duck or swim, and we1!! float and fool around the water . . .'

THE SUMMERS WERE HOT, vacations were
short. One worked six days a week on an average of
ten hours a day. Families traveled little — the cheap
Ford was not yet available. An outing to Coney
Island on the streetcars was an event long to be
remembered. Mother cooked and packed a huge
picnic lunch. And what a picnic it was! Even
Father had to admit that Mother's cooking was best.

439

THE

FAIR

SEX

IN THE

EARLY

PART

OF THE

CENTURY

RICH GIRLS. A society darling (on the left), the only one of the fabulous Cryder
triplets still unmarried, poses for the photographer in a hansom at New York's Central Park.

SPORT GIRLS. Georgiana Bishop (on the right) won the Women's Amateur Golf Cham-
pionship in 1904 against Mrs. L. Callan, whose powerful swings were a wee bit short.

WORKING GIRLS. A charming photograph of four stenographers enjoying their luncheon
break in downtown New York. It was taken by the photographer Edwin Levick in 1903.

441

MARK TWAIN'S BIRTHDAY

NEW YORK'S LITERATI celebrated Mark Twain's seventieth birth-
day at Delmonico's restaurant on December 5, 1905. The lady on the
right is Emily Post. Around the table clockwise are James MacArthur,
John A. Mitchell, May Sinclair, S. M. Gardenshire, Hamilton W. Mabie.

ANOTHER TABLE OF WELL-WISHERS. Clockwise from the
center: Florence Morse Kingsley, Philip Verrill Mighels, Frederick Trevor
Hill, Frances Powell Case, Edwin Markham, and Churchill Williams. On
the right, before the window, Dorothy Canfield and William D. Orcutt.

ON NOVEMBER 30'
MARK TWAIN
BECAME SEVENTY
YEARS OLD

THE CELEBRANT AND HIS FRIENDS

Clockwise from Mark Twain are Kate Douglas Riggs,
Rev. Joseph H. Twichcll, Bliss Carman, Ruth Mc-
Enery Stuart, Henry Mills Alden, Henry H. Rogers,
and Mary E. Wilkins Freeman.

Theodore Roosevelt was invited to attend the
dinner, but he sent his regrets. Once he called Mark
Twain a "prize idiot" (because of his stand on the

China issue), another time "a man wholly without
cultivation and without any real historical knowl-
edge" (because of his book on King Arthur's Court).
But now that the writer had reached the age of
seventy, the President thought him "one of the citi-
zens whom all Americans should delight to honor.
. . . May he live long, and year by year may he add
to the sum of admirable work that he has done."

443

AND THE IMMIGRANTS POURED IN. The country offered opportunities and the
promise of a good life. In the year 1905 the number of immigrants who came from Europe
was 1,026,499, the majority Italians but a large number from Hungary, Slovakia, Poland,
and Western Russia. The largest number of immigrants arriving at the shores of the New
World was recorded in May, when in a single day 12,039 disembarked in New York Har-
bor. America was growing with great speed; it needed men to work, it needed men to build.

444

CHAPTER XXXI

PEACEMAKER

"In foreign affairs we must make up our minds that, whether we wish it or
not, we are a great people and must play a great part in the world. It is not
open to us to choose whether we will play that part or not. We have to play
it. All we can decide is whether we shall play it well or ill."

This expressed one of Roosevelt's deepest convictions. That he spoke thus
in 1905 was appropriate, for it was in that year that he stepped into the role
of global statesman. On two sides of the world he played the peacemaker
between great powers: in the Far East, where he stage-managed the treaty that
ended the Russo-Japanese War, and in North Africa, where he played a lead-
ing part in de-fusing the Moroccan crisis and averting, at least temporarily, a
military showdown between the colonial powers of Europe.

In handling the foreign policy reins, Roosevelt was considerably aided by
his close personal friendship with two foreign diplomats whose honesty and
discretion he relied upon heavily. One was Count Speck von Sternburg, known
affectionately as "Specky" to the Roosevelts since 1890, a bright young aristo-
crat who had been made secretary of the German legation in Washington at
the President's suggestion. The second was Cecil Spring- Rice, the "Springy"
who was best man at Roosevelt's second marriage in England and who, as a
British diplomat stationed at St. Petersburg, was now a trusted if roundabout
middleman between the White House and No. 10 Downing Street. He also
developed a close friendship with Jules Jusserand, the French Ambassador in
Washington. These close relationships established the direct lines of communi-
cation which the President needed for his personal style of diplomacy.

The first challenge to his diplomatic skill came from the Far East, where
the Russo-Japanese War had begun in February 1904. The roots of the war
were many and tangled, but the major cause was a bitter commercial rivalry
in North China and Manchuria. Czar Nicholas of Russia had been tacitly en-
couraged in his truculent Far Eastern policies by Kaiser Wilhelm II of Ger-
many, who tried to divert Russia from Germany's eastern frontier.

At first, President Roosevelt was pleased with the succession of Japanese
victories. He believed that Japan's growing strength in the Far East constituted
a healthy counterweight to Russian power. And he had a low regard for Czar
Nicholas, whom he thought "a preposterous little creature."

But as the Japanese success took on the complexion of an unqualified Russian
rout, Roosevelt's satisfaction with the war began to wane. Though his sympa-
thies were with Japan, he realized that an overwhelming victory by either side
would make an added threat to the territorial integrity of China and to Ameri-

445

can interests in the Philippines. Thus, when the Japanese captured Port Arthur
in the first month of 1905 and proceeded to their victory at Mukden, Roose-
velt felt that the war must be brought to an end. He was not alone in this view.
The French were getting alarmed; the Kaiser, too, felt things had gone far
enough; and even the Japanese were finding the war a heavy strain on their
manpower and economy. Moreover, France and England were by this time
beginning to fear that they might need Russia's help against Germany in the
event that the crisis which was beginning to shape up in Morocco took a
desperate turn.

At first, to peace overtures both Russia and Japan turned a deaf ear. Neither
country was ready to enter negotiations. Roosevelt kept sounding out the bel-
ligerents without success. However, after the Japanese won a smashing naval
victory in the Sea of Japan in May — a victory Roosevelt termed more over-
whelming than Trafalgar or even the defeat of the Spanish Armada — Japan
notified the American President that it would accept his good offices as a media-
tor for peace. Two weeks later, in a letter to Senator Lodge, Roosevelt was still
picturing Russia as "so corrupt, so treacherous and shifty, and so incompetent,
that I am utterly unable to say whether or not it will make peace." Neverthe-
less, both Russia and Japan agreed to send plenipotentiaries to a conference
in the United States. "I have led the horses to water, but heaven only knows
whether they will drink or start kicking one another beside the trough," wrote
Roosevelt to a friend.

Meanwhile, an interesting — though unpublicized — footnote had been added
to the complex negotiations. Secretary of War Taft, who had stopped off in
Japan on his way to the Philippine Islands, received assurances that Japan had
no interest in the Philippines. Taft, on the other hand, told the Japanese Prime
Minister that the United States concurred with Anglo-Japanese policy in the
Far East and had no objection if Japan would exercise suzerainty over the un-
stable Korean empire. This secret understanding was significant both as an
example of Roosevelt's free-wheeling diplomatic methods and as a further
demonstration of his partiality in the Russo-Japanese controversy.

On August 5, 1905, the Russian and Japanese envoys were formally received
by the President in the wardroom of the U.S.S. Mayflower, anchored in the
harbor at Oyster Bay. The ieremony was so carefully planned that even the
wardroom chairs were removed from around the table lest there be any con-
troversy about precedence in seating arrangements. At the close of the buffet
luncheon the President proposed a solemn toast to "a just and lasting peace,"
after which the envoys departed for Portsmouth, New Hampshire, to begin
their peace conference.

Three weeks of negotiation brought forth the agreement that Japan was to
be given Port Arthur and a protectorate in Korea. However, Russia firmly
refused to pay an indemnity as desired by Japan. When the conference seemed
about to founder on this issue, Roosevelt persuaded both sides to accept a com-
promise under which Japan waived indemnities in exchange for the southern
half of the island of Sakhalin, off the Siberian coast. The proposal was accepted,
and on September 5 the delegates signed the peace treaty. The world looked

upon Roosevelt as a great man; congratulations came to him from kings and
commoners alike. In England, Edward VII told the American Ambassador
that he was "simply lost in admiration for the President."

Even before the Russo-Japanese peace was signed, Roosevelt had stepped
into the middle of another great-power dispute by settling an ugly contro-
versy that had arisen over control of the nominally "independent" state of
Morocco. The President's role in this drama was played so secretly that its full
import did not become known until many years later; but in the opinion of
Secretary Root it was of far greater importance to the world than his role in
ending the Russo-Japanese War. To the extent that the Moroccan settlement
staved off World War I and helped bind us irrevocably to the Anglo-French
alliance, this judgment seemed to be based on solid foundation.

In essence, the Moroccan crisis was an offspring of French acquisitiveness
and German frustration. At the turn of the century all the major European
powers had extensive commercial interests in Morocco, when in 1904 England
and France signed a treaty designed to freeze out their rivals. Under the pub-
licly announced provisions of the treaty, England agreed to give France a free
hand in Morocco in exchange for a free British hand in Egypt; under secret
provisions, which came to light later, the two powers agreed to Morocco's even-
tual partitioning. To the ambitious Kaiser Wilhelm of Germany, this Anglo-
French entente looked like another crucial step in the dreaded encirclement
of his imperial dreams. He visited Morocco and expressed hopes for the inde-
pendence of that state. Now, France refused the Kaiser's demand for a conference
to discuss neutral rights in Morocco, and her decision was backed by England.

The shaken Kaiser turned to Roosevelt, asking for his intervention in
behalf of his proposal for a conference, arguing that all he sought in Morocco
was an "open door" policy of the sort America supported in China. The
Kaiser's message reached Roosevelt while he was on a hunting trip in Colorado.
His first inclination was to do nothing. But when he returned to Washington,
all signs pointed toward a European war. Such a conflagration, Roosevelt
knew, would wreck his pacification efforts in the Far East. Thus, he accepted
the Kaiser's request and interfered in the conflict. He asked the French Ambas-
sador to persuade his government to agflee to a Moroccan conference that would
allow the Kaiser "to save his face." The result of Roosevelt's proposal was the
Algeciras Conference, where Henry White represented the American interests.
To him Roosevelt wrote: "I want to keep on good terms with Germany and if
possible to prevent a rupture between Germany and France. But my sympa-
thies have at bottom been with France and I suppose will continue so." At the
conference table America's weight generally leaned toward the Anglo-French
side, and Germany had to settle for smajl crumbs of prestige. The Kaiser got
his conference, and France got Morocco.

The value of President Roosevelt's two great foreign policy adventures of
1905 is open to dispute. Yet the fact remains that in both the Far East and
North Africa the immediate effect of his interventions was peace.

447

THE RUSSO-JAPANESE WAR

JAPANESE OBSERVERS watch the effect of the
Japanese guns on Port Arthur from a balloon.

THE HUMAN PYRAMID of Japanese soldie
storms over a high stone wall outside Port Arthu

THE RUSSIAN ARMY marches through Man-
churia. A photograph by war correspondent Bulla.

The war began on February 9, 1904, with Japan's
night attack on the Russian fleet in Port Arthur.
The Japanese fleet, commanded by Vice-Admiral
Togo, inflicted heavy losses on the Russians and
bottled up their fleet inside the harbor. Hearing the

1200 JAPANESE DEAD littered the battlefic
after the savage battle of Tashihkiao on June 2

news, Roosevelt wrote to his eldest son: "I was
thoroughly well pleased with the Japanese victory,
for Japan is playing our game." In his opinion,
Russia had "behaved very badly in the Far East,
her attitude toward all nations including us, but

448

CHAMPAGNE AND SHELLS. A Russian officers'
party in Port Arthur is disrupted by enemy fire.

MANTLET AND SHEARS. Japanese soldiers hid-
ing behind mantlets destroy Russian barbed wire.

IN THE PALACE OF THE CZAR. Ladies of the
aristocracy sew garments for the Russian wounded.

especially toward Japan, being grossly overbearing."
A week later he told Elihu Root that "the Japs
showed themselves past masters in the practical
application of David Harum's famous gloss on the
'Do unto others' injunction. They did it fust! Oh, if

MOBILIZATION IN SIBERIA. An artist of the
French ^Illustration depicts soldiers leaving Omsk.

only our people would learn the need of prepared-
ness, and of shaping things so that decision and
action can alike be instantaneous. Mere bigness, if it
is also mere flabbiness, means nothing but disgrace."
But as the war went on, Roosevelt's attitude changed.

449

THE PRESIDENT IN COLORADO

After Roosevelt instructed the American Ambassador
in Russia to offer his services to bring about peace
between Russia and Japan, he left Washington on
April 4 for a hunting trip in the Southwest. Be-
fore his departure he assured the country that there
was no need to worry as he had "left Taft sitting on
the lid," a phrase which was gleefully acknowledged
by political commentators and cartoonists.

Four days later he sent Taft a confidential note
from "En Route," saying that he expected the
Japanese would materially increase their demands
after their victory over the Russians under General
Kuropatkin at Mukden. "My own view is that the
Russians would do well to close with them even now;
but the Czar knows neither how to make war nor to
make peace. If he had an ounce of sense he would
have acted upon my suggestion last January and
have made peace then. There is nothing for us to do
now but to sit still and wait events."

And while he waited for events to develop, he had
"unalloyed pleasure" in "coursing wolves in Okla-
homa," being in the saddle for eight or nine hours
every day. Then he journeyed to Colorado for a long-
anticipated bear hunt with his friends Dr. Alex-
ander Lambert and Phil Stuart (riding behind him).

THE KAISER IN TANGIER

Wilhelm IPs visit in Morocco at the end of March
1905 and his remark in Tangier that the Sultan of
Morocco was an independent monarch created great
apprehension in European diplomatic circles. It was
only a year previously that France and England had
made a secret agreement to eliminate German inter-
est in Morocco, and now the German Kaiser came

out as protector of the Sultan — an ill omen for the
future and for peace. It was rumored that Germany
and Russia were secretly allied, and though these
rumors proved to be untrue, the mere possibility of
a German-Russian alliance made France tremble with
fright. She needed Russia's friendship; she needed
that country as an ally against Germany. And Great
Britain, in her desire to keep the balance of power

in Europe, was also fervently courting Russia. Thus,
diplomats, ambassadors, foreign ministers in the
European capitals maneuvered for position. As all
three great European powers sought Russia's friend-
ship, they had a vital interest in the cessation of the
Russo-Japanese War. It remained for Roosevelt to
be the peacemaker and bring representatives of the
two warring nations to a conference in America.

451

ROOSEVELT'S ENVOY IN JAPAN. William Howard Taft and his party, among them
Roosevelt's daughter Alice (in the center), visited Japan in the summer of 1905 on the
way to the Philippines. Taft urged the Japanese to make peace with the Russians.

MUTSUHITO, EMPEROR OF JAPAN, WITH HIS WIFE, AND HIS SON

452

THE PEACEMAKER. On August 5, 1905, President Roosevelt arrived at the Mayflower,
lying in the harbor of Oyster Bay, to meet the Japanese and Russian envoys. " Whether

they will be able to come to an agreement or not I can't say Of course Japan will want

to ask more than she ought to ask, and Russia to give less than she ought to give But

there is a chance that they will prove sensible, and make a peace, which will really be for
the interest of each as things are now." Thus wrote Roosevelt to his son Kermit. The
delegates left in separate ships for Portsmouth, N.H., the place of the peace conference.

453

RUSSIA AND JAPAN MAKE PEACE

MEETING THE ENVOYS of Japan and Russia
on board the Mayflower at Oyster Bay before they
began their conferences. On the left, the leaders of
Russia's delegation: Count Witte and Baron Rosen;
on the right, the Japanese Baron Komura and
Minister Takahira.

Once Roosevelt wrote to his friend Lodge: "The
more I see of the Czar, the Kaiser and the Mikado,
the better I am content with democracy, even if we
have to include the American newspaper as one of
its assets — liability would be a better term."

ENOUGH OF THE BLOODSHED!— a Spanish
cartoon in Barcelona's Hojas Selectas. "Now, be good,
boys, and throw yourselves at the feet of this divin-
ity." Roosevelt, though attacked by Japan for not
letting her secure an indemnity, was hailed by the
civilized world. For his contribution in bringing
Japan and Russia together, he was the first Ameri-
can statesman to receive the Nobel Peace Prize.

THE PEACE NEGOTIATIONS BETWEEN

On Roosevelt's insistence the representatives of the
two warring nations sat down at a conference table
to negotiate the terms of peace. In front are the
Japanese envoys: Messrs. Adatchi and Otchai,
Baron Jutaro Komura, Minister for Foreign Affairs,
Minister Kogoro Takahira, Aimaro Sato. On the
opposite side of the table, the Russians: Mr. Plancon,
C. Nabokoff, Count Serge Witte, Baron Roman
Rosen, Russian Ambassador to the United States,
J. J. Korostovetz.

After the peace treaty was concluded, Roosevelt

454

RUSSIA AND JAPAN BEGAN IN PORTSMOUTH, NEW HAMPSHIRE, ON AUGUST 9, 1905

was blamed by both Russia and Japan of bringing
the war to an end prematurely. "The Russians
claimed that they were just getting tinto their stride,
while the Japanese asserted that had the war con-
tinued a few months more they would have been able
to obtain a huge indemnity." But Roosevelt knew
that "The truth was that the Japanese had to have
peace. Their money was exhausted. So was their
credit. . . . When I intervened Japan was on the
verge of collapse. She was bled white." And Russia
was in no better state. "If the war went on," so

Roosevelt thought, it was "likely that Russia would
be driven west of Lake Baikal."

In the treaty of peace, signed on August 23, the
Russians agreed to cede half of Sakhalin to Japan,
surrender their lease of the Kwantung Peninsula and
Port Arthur, evacuate Manchuria, and recognize
Japan's suzerainty in Korea.

Roosevelt felt the securing of the peace greatly
increased America's prestige, "and as far as I am
personally affected I have received infinitely more
praise for it than in my opinion I deserve. . . ."

455

THE FAMILY AT SAGAMORE HILL IN 1907. The children from left to right: Quentin,
Ethel, Kermit, Theodore, Jr., and Archibald. "Home, wife, children," wrote Roosevelt
some years later to his eldest son, "they are what really count in life. I have heartily en-
joyed many things; the Presidency, my success as a soldier, a writer, a big game hunter and
explorer; but all of them put together are not for one moment to be weighed in the balance
when compared with the joy I have known with your mother and all of you. . . ."

456

CHAPTER XXXII

FAMILY MAN

If the years of Theodore Roosevelt's Presidency were told only in terms of
political controversies and diplomatic adventures, the story would not be
complete. His public policies shaped our national development and projected
us into a new role in world affairs, yet they were only one measure of a per-
sonality that was unique in its time and, indeed, in American history.

No other President has rivaled his diversity of interests or his physical energy;
and none made a deeper imprint on the outlook and opinions of his contem-
poraries. "Roosevelt, more than any other living man within the range of
notoriety/' said Henry Adams, "showed the singular primitive quality that
belongs to ultimate matter — the quality that mediaeval theology assigned to
God — he was pure act/' And he was not only in the political field "pure act."
He had opinions on almost every subject and an extraordinary flair for ex-
pressing them forcefully. As one national magazine summed it up in 1906:
"The scrapes he gets into, the scrapes he gets out of; the things he attempts,
the things he accomplishes, the things he demolishes; his appointments and
his disappointments; the rebukes that he administers and those he receives;
his assumptions, presumptions, omnisciences and deficiencies, make up a daily
tale which those of us who survive his tenure of the presidential office will doubt-
less miss, as we might miss some property of the atmosphere we breathe."
Julian Street spoke for millions in labeling him "the most interesting Ameri-
can," and John Morley, the British historian, after a visit to the White House
said: "The two things in America which seem to me the most extraordinary
are Niagara Falls and President Roosevelt."

Roosevelt was an omniverous reader or books and periodicals, and he talked
about them constantly. Writers who spoke critically of him were likely to re-
ceive long letters of rebuttal; authors whose work interested him were asked to
the White House to discuss their ideas. "I am delighted to show any courtesy
to Pierpont Morgan or Andrew Carnegie or James J. Hill," the President once
remarked in explaining his guest lists, "but as for regarding any one of them
as, for instance, I regard Professor Bury, or Peary, the arctic explorer, or
Rhodes, the historian — why, I could not force myself to do it, even if I wanted
to, which I don't." He liked to surround himself with people of thought rather
than people of wealth. As Owen Wister put it, "For once in our history, we
had an American salon."

The President regarded the White House as "a bully pulpit," and the
preaching from his pulpit was not limited to political matters alone. He
preached the virtue of simplified spelling, though Congress indignantly re-

457

belled when he ordered the Government Printer to adopt such phonetic
changes as "tho" for "though" and "thru" for "through." He preached with
equal vigor against what he termed the "nature fakers" who wrote what pur-
ported to be factual children's books attributing human emotions and reason-
ing powers to animals. He preached the doctrine of the strenuous life, with daily
demonstrations to the delight of the public and cartoonists. He preached, also,
the virtues of large families and the sacredness of the American home.

He was a moralist, firmly believing in moral principles. He wrote: "If
courage and strength and intellect are unaccompanied by the moral purpose,
the moral sense, they become merely forms of expression for unscrupulous
force and unscrupulous cunning. If the strong man has not in him the lift
toward lofty things his strength makes him only a curse to himself and to his
neighbor." And he said to his son Kermit: "If a man does not have an ideal
and try to live up to it, then he becomes a mean, base and sordid creature, no
matter how successful." For Theodore Roosevelt "morality, decency, clean
living, courage, manliness, self-respect — these qualities are more important in
the make-up of a people than any mental subtlety." He pleaded: "We ought
not to tolerate wrong. It is a sign of weakness to do so, and in its ultimate ef-
fects weakness is often quite as bad as wickedness. But in putting a stop
to wrong we should, so far as possible, avoid getting into an attitude of vin-
dictive hatred toward the wrongdoer." Such were his fundamental tenets,
forming a base to his philosophy on life.

He believed in the sanctity of marriage. He said: "When the ordinary de-
cent man does not understand that to marry the woman he loves, as early as
he can, is the most desirable of all goals, the most successful of all forms of life
entitled to be called really successful; when the ordinary woman does not un-
derstand that all other forms of life are but makeshift and starveling substi-
tutes for the life of the happy wife, the mother of a fair-sized family of healthy
children; then the state is rotten at heart." He was against divorce and argued
his point. "I do unqualifiedly condemn easy divorce. I know that the effect on
the 'Four Hundred' of easy divorce has been very bad. It has been shocking
to me to hear young girls about to get married calmly speculating on how long it
will be before they get divorces." He was for families, the larger the merrier.
"The woman who shrinks f^om motherhood is as low a creature as a man of
the professional pacifist, or poltroon type, who shirks his duty as a soldier."
But he had decided opinions about the offspring of "the wrong people." He
wished that "the wrong people could be prevented entirely from breeding; and
when the evil nature of these people is sufficiently flagrant, this should be
done. Criminals should be sterilized, and feeble-minded persons forbidden to
leave offspring behind them."

For the role of the wife in the family he had great respect. "I have mighty
little use for the man who is always declaiming in favor of an eight-hour day
for himself who does not think anything at all of having a sixteen-hour day
for his wife." And he held that males must share responsibility in bringing up
children. Once he asked a naturalist whether the male wolf took any interest
in the female during pregnancy and whether he ever took care of the cubs.

458

When the naturalist said that he had observed the wolf doing both Roosevelt
shouted in delight: "I'm glad to hear it! I think better of him."

In matters of morality Roosevelt assiduously practiced what he preached,
and nowhere was this more evident than in his family life, which was a sepa-
rate and hallowed compartment of his existence. "I have had the happiest
home life of any man I have ever known/' he once wrote, and he regarded it
as perhaps the greatest achievement of his career. Writing to his son Kermit,
after the 1904 election, he said: "It was a great comfort to feel, all during the
last days when affairs looked doubtful, that no matter how things came out
the really important thing was the lovely life I have with Mother and
you children, and that compared to this home life everything else was of very
small importance from the standpoint of happiness." He never — so his daugh-
ter says — showed the slightest interest in any woman other than his wife. He
was the cleanest-living man. In his entire life there were but two women
— Alice, his first wife, and, after her death, Edith, his second. And even before
he married Edith, he went through soul-searching agonies, walking the floor
for three days, "pounding one fist into the other palm, expostulating the while
to himself: 'I have no constancy. I have no constancy.'"

He adored his family. His children shared his exuberance, and this pro-
duced a continuous flow of colorful newspaper stories. The nation read with
delight about Quentin smuggling Algonquin, a calico pony, up the White
House elevator and into his brother's bedroom, or his scaring the wits out of
some Congressmen by bringing a four-foot king snake into the anteroom of his
father's office. When Archie, whose engaging personality made him the public's
particular favorite, nearly died of diphtheria shortly after his thirteenth birth-
day, the New York Times said that "all Washington, on getting up these
mornings, eagerly scans the newspaper with the query, 'How's Archie?' "

Early in Roosevelt's Presidency the New York Herald reported: "It has been
an extraordinary change for the strenuous young Roosevelts, this transforma-
tion from the quiet country life of Oyster Bay to the dazzling, bewilder-
ing atmosphere of the national capital." Actually, the "quiet life of Oyster
Bay" was not entirely lost to the Roosevelt children when their father became
President. The rambling house at Sagamore Hill became the summer White
House; and despite the ever-present Secret Service men and the streams of
official visitors who made their way up the hill from the village railroad sta-
tion, life there remained in most respects as idyllic as ever. "There could be
no healthier and pleasanter place in which to bring up children," Roosevelt
wrote in his Autobiography. "It was real country and — speaking from the some-
what detached point of view of the masculine parent — I should say there was
just the proper mixture of freedom and control in the management of the chil-
dren. They were never allowed to be disobedient or to shirk lessons or work;
and they were encouraged to have all the fun possible. They often went bare-
foot, especially during the many hours passed in various enthralling pursuits
along and in the waters of the bay. They swam, they tramped, they boated,
they coasted and skated in winter, they were intimate friends with the cows,
chickens, pigs and other live stock."

459

He entered into their pastimes with the enthusiasm of a man who was al-
ways half child himself. It was truly a remarkable sight, reported a visit-
ing newspaper man from Chicago, to see "the President of the United States
at the head of this young band of savages on their way to the woods or to the
target grounds." For the Roosevelt children and their numerous small cousins
(the J. West Roosevelts and the Emlen Roosevelts were Sagamore Hill neigh-
bors), the big event of the summer was the annual overnight camping
trip down the bay — a trip that was always under the personal command of
"Father," who prepared the supper and told stories of his Western adventures
around the campfire before his charges fell asleep under the stars. And
no matter how heavy the press of official business, nothing was permitted to
interfere with the leisurely family breakfast each morning or with the walk or
drive which he took every afternoon with his wife, whose serene and well-
ordered management of the Sagamore Hill household was a constant and
valued counterweight to his exuberance.

In her role as first lady Mrs. Roosevelt shied away from the limelight, de-
voting much of her attention to the task of trying to keep its glare from inter-
fering with a normal upbringing for the children. Inevitably, her very lack of
ostentation exposed her to some feline jibes. Mrs. Stuyvesant Fish, the New
York society leader, remarked: "The wife of the President, it is said, dresses
on $300 a year, and she looks it." But for the most part the nation respected
her self-effacing traits, and her friends spoke with admiration of her gracious-
ness and her effectiveness as a sage if unobtrusive partner to her husband in
affairs of state as well as affairs of the family. "Never, when he had his wife's
judgment, did he go wrong or suffer disappointment," said Mark Sullivan.

Next to the President himself, easily the most colorful member of the family
was the headstrong and imperious Alice, a young lady of 1 7 at the time the
Roosevelts moved into the White House. Intelligent, beautiful, vigorously in-
dependent, she soon found the heady life of the rich far more to her lik-
ing than the wholesome atmosphere of Sagamore Hill. Writing to his sister
Corinne at the end of the summer of 1903, the President mentioned that
Alice had been "spending most of her time in Newport and elsewhere,
associating with the Four Hundred — individuals with whom the other mem-
bers of her family have exceedingly few affiliations." The newspapers, in
which she was referred to as "Princess Alice," kept an amused and generally
admiring audience of millions informed of her adventures — her romances, her
irrepressible comments on the passing scene, her trips about the countryside at
the dizzying speed of thirty miles an hour in a Panhard racer automo-
bile. When she openly smoked a cigarette, it was the sensation of the year.
Her name was appropriated by the clothing trade, which produced the new
shade of "Alice blue," just as her father's nickname had been used by the
makers of "Teddy bears."

"I can do one of two things," Roosevelt once remarked to a friend with mock
concern. "I can be President of the United States or I can control Alice.
I cannot possibly do both." In the summer of 1905 Alice joined Mr. and Mrs.
William Howard Taft and a delegation of Congressmen and wives in a much-

460

publicized tour of the Far East; and the following February she married one
of the gentlemen who was with the party on the voyage — Congressman Nicholas
Longworth, talented scion of one of Ohio's first families.

The "strenuous life" which Roosevelt both preached and practiced was not
only strenuous physically but intellectually as well. It was significant that the
devoted group of younger officials who surrounded and advised him during
his White House years were popularly named the "Tennis Cabinet" — an apt
term to distinguish them from the older and less vigorous men who comprised
the regular Cabinet. Nothing short of the gravest affairs of state was allowed
to interfere with his daily exercise, though he would not permit photographers
to take his picture on the tennis court. At Sagamore Hill the tennis was sup-
plemented by riding, rowing, lumbering, and hiking. In Washington he rode
or hiked when time and weather permitted; or if confined to the White
House, he practiced boxing, wrestling, and jujitsu. It was as a result of a box-
ing bout at the White House that he all but lost the sight of his left eye.

Of all the President's outdoor pastimes, perhaps the most characteristic of
all were his "obstacle walks," a form of exercise which he first devised at Sag-
amore Hill to entertain and toughen his children and their cousins. The rules
were simple; the hikers proceeded from the starting point to the objective in a
beeline without stopping and without permitting any natural obstacle to
divert their course. In Washington the "obstacle walks" were generally taken
at Rock Creek, and it was counted a considerable honor — though an exhaust-
ing one — to be invited to accompany him. It was partly as an outgrowth of
this pastime that he tried on one occasion to combat the indolent habits of the
swivel-chair Army officers in Washington by issuing an order that they must
establish their physical fitness by marching fifty miles in a three-day period
or, in the case of cavalry officers, riding one hundred miles in the same period.
When the order was widely attacked as tyrannical and capricious, the Pres-
ident, in company with three Army officers, rode more than one hundred
miles in a single day over the back roads of Virginia through freezing rain
and sleet to prove that the test was not unduly demanding.

It was such episodes that made him the most controversial and provocative
public figure of his time. People couW revere him or deplore him, condemn
his actions or praise them, but no one could ignore him. The enormous range
of his interests, and his endless reservoirs of combative energy, projected him
into every phase of national life; and whether the issue was big or little, he
was generally to be found in its storm center. "Roosevelt," as one of his far-
from-worshipful contemporaries acknowledged, "has the knack of doing
things, and doing them noisily, clamorously; while he is in the neighborhood
the public can no more look the other way than the small boy can turn his
head away from a circus parade followed by a steam calliope."

461

THE NEWLYWEDS. On February 17, 1906, First Ohio District. The wedding— one of the most

twenty-two-year-old Alice Roosevelt married thirty- brilliant of the early part of the century —was held

six-year-old Nicholas Longworth, scion of a Cincin- at the White House, as Roosevelt said, "against

nati family and Republican congressman from the a background which bristled with 'officialdom.' "

;4&f »*u -i.<4 fcj+~*.

* J* .4- ^..<r^

& c .^v**»

ONE OF HIS PICTURE LETTERS

Ever since he was a child Roosevelt had liked to
draw funny little sketches in his letters, illustrating

THE WEDDING PICTURE

Alice remembers that the draping of her

the events he described. And when he became a
father, he delighted his five children with such
letters, some of the most charming he ever penned.

463

ROOSEVELT'S MOST CHERISHED ACHIEVEMENT was the building of the
Panama Canal. Though the Canal was not opened to commercial traffic until August 1914,
it was during his administration that the plans were adopted and the bulk of the work done.

In November of 1906 the President and his wife paid a visit to the Canal Zone to see with
his own eyes how the project was progressing. It was the first time in the country's history
that an American President had traveled outside American territory while in office. Roose-
velt went everywhere; he inspected the huge machinery, he took a seat inside the giant
steam shovels.

When Roosevelt visited Panama the project was still in its early stage, the Commis-
sion being preoccupied mainly with assembling the enormous amounts of equipment,
expanding and organizing the complex railroad network required to move materials
and men, and with the building of accommodations for the 45,000 construction workers.

464

CHAPTER XXXIII

BUILDING THE CANAL

The construction of the Panama Canal was the biggest, costliest, and most
difficult public works project ever undertaken by the American people. Of all
Roosevelt's achievements, it was the one closest to his heart. He approached
it with an almost missionary belief in its importance to humanity. Years after
the Panamanian revolt, when he acknowledged that "I took the Isthmus," he
emphasized that he was of "a wholly unrepentant frame of mind" on the
subject. "The ethical conception upon which I acted," he said, "was that I did
not intend that Uncle Sam should be held up while he was doing a great work
for himself and all mankind."

Customarily the canal is pictured as one of history's greatest engineering
feats. But while the engineering problems were numerous and of great scope,
they were not unprecedented or even very intricate. Far more frustrating and
time-consuming were the mechanics of the undertaking — the endless problems
of labor, of supply, and particularly of public health in a tropical and disease-
ridden climate. Plagued by malaria and yellow fever, Panama was one of the
foulest pestholes in the world. This more than anything else was the reason why
the French attempt to build the canal under the direction of Ferdinand
DeLesseps in the eighties turned into a tragic fiasco.

The first question which President Roosevelt and Congress had to answer
was whether the great new waterway should be a sea-level canal or a lock canal.
Lawmakers, engineers, and the public-at-large debated the issue for many
months. The international board of inquiry recruited by the President was un-
able to come to agreement. Roosevelt pondered over the issue and, after ex-
amining all the evidence, decided onVva lock canal. He reasoned that though a
sea-level canal would cost slightly less to operate and would be less vulnerable
in time of war, a lock canal would cost half as much to build and could be
built in half the time. Thus, influenced and pressured by the impetuous
President, the Senate by a vote of 36 to 31 approved the lock plan; and the
House fell into line.

The health problem in the Canal area was one of the greatest obstacles to
the progress of the undertaking. At the suggestion of a group of promi-
nent doctors Roosevelt instructed the seven-man Canal Commission to place
all sanitation work under the jurisdiction of General William C. Gorgas, who
had been victorious over yellow fever in Cuba some three years before. But
when Gorgas set about the work of eradicating from the forty-mile-long Canal
Zone the Stegomyia mosquito — the small insect which transmitted the
disease — he was opposed by the Canal Commission, who regarded the mos-

465

quito theory as nonsense. The commissioners believed that the only way to
drive disease from the Canal Zone was by eliminating filth, burying garbage,
and painting all buildings. Gorgas's pleas for chemicals, crude oil, and metal
screening went unheeded.

Early in 1905 a yellow^fever epidemic struck the Zone. Chief Engineer
John F. Wallace threatened to resign; workmen put down their tools and
demanded passage back to the States; incoming laborers refused to disembark
from the ships. Gorgas, even though he had warned his superiors of the danger
of epidemics, was saddled with most of the blame. It was a curious state of affairs
to have the prophet accused while the guilty men played the role of prosecutor.

The President, increasingly dissatisfied with the sluggishness of the Canal
Commission, enmeshed in constant controversy and administrative red tape,
decided that it was time to take matters into his own hands. As Congress was
unwilling to provide for a smaller governing body with a less divided authority,
he dismissed the first commission and replaced it with a new one headed by
Theodore P. Shonts, a hard-driving railroad builder from the Middle West.
Shonts' ideas about yellow fever were no different from those of the preceding
commissioners. He, too, believed that if Gorgas — instead of fighting mosquitoes
— would concentrate on cleaning up Panama City and the other settlements
in the Canal area, yellow fever would no longer be a hazard. Fortified by this be-
lief, he sent a memorandum to Secretary of War Taft, asking for the dismissal of
Gorgas; Taft, endorsing the memorandum, passed it on to the President
at Sagamore Hill.

This put Roosevelt on the horns of a dilemma. He had promised Shonts abso-
lute authority in running the Canal Commission, therefore he was reluctant to
override the first major exercise of that authority; at the same time he was
strongly inclined to agree with the beliefs of Gorgas about yellow fever. Dis-
cussing the problem with his personal physician, Dr. Alexander Lambert, who
had accompanied him on a bear hunt in Colorado only a few months before,
he was advised to let Gorgas prove the theory in practice.

Roosevelt needed no further urging. He made up his mind to back Gorgas,
and gave his word to stick with him. Thus, with the President behind him,
Gorgas went on with his campaign against the Stegomyia mosquito through-
out the summer. By early fill he knew that his efforts were successful.

The next plague to be overcome was malaria. Gorgas intensified his attacks
against the disease, which was propagated by the Anopheles, another variety
of mosquito. Again he ran into resistance from the Canal Commission. The
commissioners complained that the campaign against malaria was costing the
American taxpayers ten dollars for every mosquito killed. Yet Gorgas persisted,
and he proved his point. By 1914, when the first ships passed through "the big
ditch/9 the death rate from all causes in the Canal Zone was the astonishingly
low figure of 6 per thousand — against 14.1 per thousand in the United States
— a signal success due mainly to the foresight of Gorgas.

Late in 1906, President Roosevelt himself paid a visit to the Canal Zone with
Mrs. Roosevelt in order to obtain firsthand knowledge of the project and its
progress. At the time of his visit the grand plan of the canal was clear; its key

466

feature was to be a huge lake created at eighty feet above sea level by dam*
ming the Chargres and Rio Grande rivers. From this body of water — Gatun
Lake — the canal's descent to the Atlantic and Pacific was to be achieved by a
system of locks at both ends.

Administrative problems continued to impede progress. Early in 1907 John F.
Stevens, chairman and chief engineer of the Canal Commission, resigned.
Roosevelt saw that he must solve the administrative problems, once and for
all. The enormous job in Panama required a firm, co-ordinated administra-
tion by a permanent staff that would stay with it until it was done; but because
of the complex problems and the distastefulness of life in the hot and unde-
veloped area, the personnel turnover averaged about ninety per cent a year,
an ominously high figure.

The President appointed a third commission, composed primarily of Army
and Navy engineers, "who will stay on the job till I get tired of having them
there, or till I say they may abandon it." To the post of chairman and chief
engineer he named Lieutenant Colonel George W. Goethals, a senior officer
in the Army Engineers and a recognized expert on canal construction. By
executive order Goethals was given supreme authority over all matters con-
nected with the canal. To the other members of the commission the President
put the matter frankly. "If at any time you do not agree with Colonel
Goethals' policies," he told them, "do not bother to tell me about it — your
disagreement with him will constitute your resignation." Goethals was given
a free hand, and the policy worked.

In such a way, Congress — which had steadfastly rejected Roosevelt's pro-
posals to change the multi-headed commission system in favor of a one-man
control — was effectively circumvented. Time has proved the soundness of
Roosevelt's decision. Armed with authority, technical competence, and an
iron sense of responsibility, Goethals played the part of a benevolent tyrant
with striking success from the first. He overcame staggering technical difficulties
— particularly in the mountainous section known as the "Culebra Cut," where
there was a succession of nearly disastrous landslides. The difficulties at
Culebra proved conclusively the wisdom of the bitterly debated decision to
build a lock canal instead of trying tt> c TOSS the mountains at sea level. "There
is not enough money in the world to construct a canal at sea level," Goethals
had said at the height of the controversy, "and if constructed, it could not be
kept open."

By the time the Panama Canal was completed, the cost to the American
taxpayers totaled $223,000,000, not including the $40,000,000 paid to the
French canal company and the $10,000,000 given to the Republic of Panama
for the Canal Zone. Yet its significance could not be measured in dollars. The
canal, a monument to American technical proficiency, became the most
enormous economic and military asset to the United States. That it was trans-
formed from a seemingly Utopian plan into bold reality was greatly due to the
courageous and determined leadership of Theodore Roosevelt.

467

HE SAW EVERYTHING FOR HIMSELF —MOVING AROUND IN AN OPEN CAR

INSPECTING THE CONSTRUCTION OF THE PANAMA CANAL

"I went over everything," wrote Roosevelt to his son Kermit from his tour of the Panama
Canal in November 1906, "that I could possibly go over in the time at my disposal.
I examined the quarters of married and single men, white men and negroes. I went over
the ground of the Gatun and La Boca dams; went through Panama and Colon, and spent
a day in the Culebra Cut, where the great work is being done. There the huge steamshovels
are hard at it; scooping huge masses of rock and gravel and dirt previously loosened by the
drillers and dynamite blasters, loading it on trains which take it away to some dump, either
in the jungle or where the dams are to be built. They arc eating steadily into the mountain,
cutting it down and down. Little tracks are laid on the side-hills, rocks blasted out, and the
great ninety-five ton steamshovels work up like mountain howitzers until they come to where
they can with advantage begin their work of eating into and destroying the mountainside.
With intense energy men and machines do their task, the white men supervising matters
and handling the machines, while the tens of thousands of black men do the rough manual
labor where it is not worth while to have machines to do it. It is an epic feat, and one of
immense significance."

It was only a year previously that a yellow-fever epidemic had struck the Canal Zone,
causing panic among the construction workers. Chief Engineer John F. Wallace, who had

468

ON A TUGBOAT WITH T. P. SHONTS (RIGHT), HEAD OF THE PANAMA COMMISSION

taken the precaution of having his coffin sent to Panama, threatened to resign, and General
William C. Gorgas — the man who had cleaned Cuba of the disease and who was now fighting
the mosquitoes in the Panama Canal area — v.as blamed for the epidemic. Members of the
Panama Canal Commission ridiculed Gorgas's efforts and demanded his resignation.
Roosevelt had to decide whether to let Gorgas go or to uphold him. He consulted his friend
Dr. Alexander Lambert, who told him: "If you fall back on the old methods of sanitation,
you will fail, just as the French failed. But if you back up Gorgas and his ideas and let him
pursue his campaign against the mosquitoes you will get your Canal." The President
followed the advice; he told Gorgas to keep on with his fight against the Stegomyia mos-
quito. It was a tremendously important decision— and it meant success. Gorgas kept on,
and by the early fall of 1905 he felt confident enough to tell a group of surgeons who were
examining the corpse of a yellow-fever victim in a government hospital: 'Take a good look
at this man, boys, for it's the last case of yellow fever you will ever see. There will never be
any more deaths from this cause in Panama," a prediction which proved to be accurate.
After Gorgas eradicated yellow fever, he went on to fight against malaria, propagated by
another variety of mosquito. Again the Canal Commission resisted him, and again the Gen-
eral proved his point. Thus, when Roosevelt came to inspect the progress of the con-
struction he saw that things were proceeding well and that his dream was taking shape.

469

CHAPTER XXXIV

CRUSADING AGAINST
"THE PREDATORY RICH"

"I have a definite philosophy about the Presidency," Roosevelt told the
British historian Trevelyan. "I think it should be a very powerful office, and I
think the President should be a very strong man who uses without hesitation
every power that the position yields." Roosevelt was not afraid to use such
powers and to use them forcefully. Seeking to temper the worst social and
economic effects of American industrialism, he wielded the "big stick" against
big business as no President had done before him.

Wall Street looked upon him as a dangerous socialist. This was an exagger-
ation. Roosevelt's "Square Deal" was essentially a middle-class program,
aimed as much at "unruly labor leaders" as at "the predatory rich." He was
profoundly disturbed by the growth of the radical movement in America, and
he attributed it largely to the "dull, purblind folly" of men who accepted the
privileges of great wealth without accepting its responsibilities. He himself
would have liked to be a middle-of-the-road umpire who would keep the rich
from exploiting the poor so that the poor would not be induced to seize power
and exploit the rich.

Roosevelt tended to view this more as a moral than as an economic or a
social problem. In his opinion monopoly was not evil in itself; there were
"good" trusts and "bad" ones, and the duty of government was to force the
bad ones to become good by making them follow what he deemed to be the
path of "righteousness." This copybook approach amused many of his more
skeptical friends. Speaker of the Hpuse Thomas B. Reed once told him: "If
there is one thing more than another lor which I admire you, Theodore, it is
your original discovery of the Ten Commandments." And John Hay noted in
his diary: "Knox says the question of what is to become of Roosevelt after
1908 is easily answered. He should be made a bishop."

That the trend toward monopoly was getting out of hand was evident from
the latest government studies, which showed that while in 1900 there were 185
manufacturing combinations, or trusts, with a total capitalization of about
three billion dollars, by 1904 their number had grown to 318 with a total
capitalization of more than seven billion dollars, or approximately two fifths
of the manufacturing capital in the nation. In theory these consolidations
produced economic benefits, in practice such benefits tended to go neither to
the consumer in terms of lower prices nor to the worker in terms of better pay,
but to a handful of industrialists and financiers, who reaped tremendous profits

AT PANAMA 471

replying to President Amador's

and established increasing control over the economic life of the nation. By 1905
the United States Steel Corporation, the biggest octopus of all, controlled no
less than 170 subsidiary companies.

In no field was the tendency toward consolidation greater than in transpor-
tation, where at the time of Roosevelt's election six railway systems had ob-
tained control of three quarters of the nation's railroad mileage without
achieving any improvements in service, rates, or wages. In his message to Con-
gress the President asked that teeth be put into the long-dormant Interstate
Commerce Act by giving the Interstate Commerce Commission power to
"summarily and effectively prevent the imposition of unjust or unreasonable
rates." Meanwhile, under the terms of the Elkins Act of 1903 he insti-
tuted suits against the nation's four biggest meat-packing companies for receiv-
ing secret freight rebates at the expense of their competitors. A suit was also
brought against the Standard Oil Company, which was accused of rebates
totaling nearly one million dollars a year.

The 1906 session of Congress saw the introduction of a bill by Representative
William Hepburn of Iowa containing the provisions Roosevelt had demanded.
The Hepburn Bill passed the House easily, but when it came before the Senate
it was opposed by a powerful block of "Railway Senators/' The strategy of
Senator Aldrich, the son-in-law of John D. Rockefeller, who led the fight
against the bill, was to amend the rate-making process, make it cumbersome
and costly, and subject it to review by the courts. To embarrass the President,
"Pitchfork Ben" Tillman, a radical Southern Democrat whom Roosevelt dis-
liked, was put in charge of the measure.

For two months the Hepburn Bill was bitterly debated in the Senate. Sena-
tor Foraker alone made eighty-six speeches against it. In the end it looked as
though Roosevelt might win a complete victory over the "standpat" Repub-
lican leadership; still, when the showdown came, he compromised rather than
risk alienating the most powerful men in his own party.

His compromise was branded a "betrayal," a "surrender," and a "sellout."
Yet the Hepburn Bill as passed represented an important advance in railroad
regulation. It provided for broader judicial review than Roosevelt wanted; but
it gave the Interstate Commerce Commission power to set maximum rates for
the first time; it provided stiff penalties for violation of Commission orders; it
extended the Commission's authority over most aspects of railroading.

And while Roosevelt battled for railroad regulation he also assailed the
trusts, demanding that "all corporations engaged in interstate commerce
should be under the supervision of the national government" and even sug-
gesting that the Constitution should be amended to such purpose. For such a
radical position he could find no support in Congress. Thus all he could do was
to institute prosecutions under the Sherman Anti-Trust Act.

The most dramatic of the President's victories over predatory business inter-
ests was the federal meat-inspection bill. When it seemed that the meat packers
might cripple it with amendments, Roosevelt released a portion of his exam-
iners9 report about the unsanitary conditions in the Chicago packing houses

472

and threatened to publish the remainder if the packers refused to call off their
lobbyists. His threat and the fact that meat sales in the country and abroad
were already suffering from the bad publicity led to the passage of the bill. By
its momentum it also forced favorable action on the Pure Food Bill, which had
been gathering dust for some years in a House pigeonhole. Denounced by
Senator Aldrich as an infringement on "the liberty of all the people of the
United States," this bill provided the first effective controls over the widespread
use of adulterants in foods, drugs, and liquors.

The 1906 session of Congress, "the most ferocious, the most loquacious, and
one of the most industrious" sessions on record, represented the high tide of
Roosevelt's pressure on big business. As the booming prosperity of the century's
early years had given way to a financial depression in 1907, financiers blamed
the slump on the President's "undermining of public confidence." Roosevelt
replied indignantly: "If trouble comes from having the light turned on, remem-
ber that it is not really due to the light but to the misconduct which is exposed."
Nothing, he declared, could "alter in the slightest degree my determination
that for the remaining sixteen months these policies shall be persevered in
unswervingly." To William Allen White he wrote: "If we meet hard times . . .
I shall probably end my term of service as President under a more or less dark
cloud of obloquy. If so, I shall be sorry, of course, but I shall neither regret
what I have done nor alter my line of conduct in the least degree." Neverthe-
less, the panic of 1907 made him slacken his attacks.

Of economic and financial matters, Roosevelt had little knowledge. However,
on the issue of conservation, where he assumed a comparable role as a pro-
tector of the public interest against the private, he was an expert. Both
his lifelong interest in nature and his firsthand acquaintance with the wilder-
ness areas of the West contributed to an intense and unrelenting concern for
the preservation of the nation's forest and water resources. He had the good
fortune to have at his command the devoted services of many dedicated con-
servationists, of whom the most able was Gifford Pinchot, the man who devised
and executed much of the President's program.

At the outset of Roosevelt's Presidency there was, for all practical purposes,
no conservation policy. "The habit of deciding, whenever possible, in favor of
private interests against the public welfare was firmly fixed," he wrote in his
Autobiography. "The relation of the conservation of natural resources to the
problems of national welfare and national efficiency had not yet dawned on
the public mind." But by the time he left the White House, he had added
150,000,000 acres to the national forests, had launched large-scale reforestation
and irrigation programs serving more than 3,000,000 acres of the West, had
pushed through legislation to check the wholesale depletion of mineral re-
sources, and had brought to a halt the systematic looting of the public preserves
by an unholy alliance of railroad operators, timber barons, and ranchers.

The battle for conservation was less dramatic than the battles with Wall Street
and the trusts, nevertheless it was part of the same crusade against exploitation
by a predatory minority. Roosevelt's victories on this front were of lasting value.

473

CARTOONIST'S PET

"SOMEBODY'S GOT TO TURN BACK"

Cartoon by Zim in Judge at the time when Roose-
velt's fight for railroad regulation got under way.

NO MOLLYCODDLING HERE

The big stick in action against the Beef Trust, the Oil
Trust, the Railroads, and "Everything In General."

CHRISTMAS AT THE WHITE HOUSE-

Roosevelt on his hobbyhorse marked Anti-Railroad
Rebate Laws. Around the room the toys are labeled:
Panama Canal, Cuban Treaty, Tariff Revision, New
Immigration Laws, Reciprocity, Porto Rico, Chinese
Immigration, Square Deal for the South, Trust
Question, Venezuelan Troubles, Insurance Scare, Cut
Government Expenditures — pointing to the issues
of the first four years of his administration.

If the cartoon had been drawn four years later —
at the end of Roosevelt's term "in his own right" —

474

AN AMUSING CARTOON BY FLORHI WHICH JUDGE PRINTED ON DECEMBER 23, 1905

the artist could have added many more toys, so
many more were Roosevelt's achievements and the
important events in which he played a prominent
part. There would have been labels on his negotia-
tions for the Russo-Japanese peace treaty, on conser-
vation and irrigation, on the administration of the
Philippines, on his stand in the controversy with
Japan, on simplified spelling, on nature fakers, on
his quarrels with Mrs. Bellamy Storer and General
Miles, on muckrakers and the Pure Food Bill, and

a number of other related and unrelated subjects.

Roosevelt was always doing things, always in the
midst of things. "Whatever I think it is right for me
to do, I do. I do the things that I believe ought to
be done. And when I make up my mind to do
a thing, I act." There was no doubt about it.

One marvels at his versatility. There was hardly
any subject under the sun about which he did not
hand down an opinion. He was equally at home in
discussing science, literature, history, philosophy.

475

MUCKRAKERS

UPTON SINCLAIR,

whose realistic novel The
Jungle in 1906 led to in-
vestigation of the Chicago
meat-packing industry.

IDA M, TARBELL,

whose history in McClure's
of the Standard Oil Com-
pany in 1 902 pioneered a
new kind of journalism.

DEMANDING REFORMS

The ruthlessness of modern finance, the corruption in
business, and the graft in politics demanded correc-
tive measures. Writers and journalists woke the coun-
try to the machinations of great corporations and the
rottenness in political life; with Samuel S. McClure's
founding of a 15-cent magazine, the literature of such
exposures found a home and a platform. The first
successful attempt was Ida M. Tarbell's "History of
the Standard Oil Company," which McClure's Maga-
zine printed in 1902, shedding light on the abuses of
that huge trust. Then came Lincoln Steffen's "Ene-
mies of the Republic," a disclosure of graft in the
government of the cities. As the circulation of
McClure's rose, other magazines followed its lead.
Their policy of exposure flourished, paving the way
for many of Roosevelt's reforms.

But when sensational magazines like Everybody's
printed Thomas W. Lawson's vituperative "Frenzied
Finance," or Cosmopolitan published David Graham
Phillips's "The Treason of the Senate," Roosevelt felt
that the writer went too far. He wanted to make it
clear that he would not be a part of "the lunatic
fringe" that rushes into the comet's tail of every re-
form movement. In a speech on March 17, 1906,
before the Gridiron Club, he quoted from Bunyan's
Pilgrim's Progress about "the man with the muckrake
. . . who could look no way but downward." The phrase
stuck — all expos6 writers became "muckrakers."

THOMAS LAWSON,

whose Frenzied Finance re-
vealed the manipulations
of financiers in Amalga-
mated Copper stock.

LINCOLN STEFFENS,

whose disclosures on cor-
ruption in local politics
were contained in his vol-
ume The Shame of the Cities.

RAY S. BAKER

exposed dishonesty in
rate-setting practices of
the lines in his 1 906 book,
The Railroads on Trial.

CHARLES RUSSELL

uncovered the shady ac-
tivities of the beef trust
in The Greatest Trust in the
World, published in 1905.

THE PACKING-HOUSE SCANDAL

When a commission, appointed by Roosevelt, re-
ported "revolting" conditions in the Chicago packing
houses, with "meat shovelled from filthy wooden
floors, piled on tables rarely washed . . . gathering
dirt, splinters, floor filth," public indignation forced
the passing of a Meat Inspection bill. At about the
same time, Upton Sinclair's novel The Jungle dram-
atized the abuses in stockyards and packing houses,
preparing a climate for the meat inspection bill.

476

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ONE OF HIS GREAT ACHIEVEMENTS

The Reclamation Act of 1902 provided that pro-
ceeds from the sales of public lands in sixteen West-
ern states should go into a special irrigation fund.
With the money, huge tracts of land were reclaimed,
irrigated, and sold to settlers. In such a way,
sands of acres of sagebrush-covered wasteland were
turned into fertile agricultural areas — a proud
achievement of Roosevelt's irrigation policy.

CONSERVATION

"When, at the beginning of my term of service as
President,*' wrote Roosevelt, "... I took up the cause
of conservation, I was already fairly well awake to
the need of social and industrial justice; and from
the outset we had in view, not only the preservation
of natural resources, but the prevention of monopoly
in natural resources, so that they should inhere in
the people as a whole." In June 1902 the Reclama-
tion Act was signed, which provided for irrigation in
the West by the government, the cost to be repaid

by the settlers and kept as a revolving fund for
further work. During Roosevelt's administration al-
most 150 million acres — mostly timberland — were
added to the 45 million acres previously held as
permanent government reserves, ah efficient forest
service was organized, and sanctuaries were set up
for the preservation of wildlife — all in the face of
constant opposition from Congress and people in
the West who had been counting on using the land
and its resources for their own personal profit.

477

THE AMERICAN SAMSON. Delilah Roosevelt: "I must get these shears to work to-
gether before I can do any hair-cutting." By J. S. Pughc in Puck, December 13, 1905.

One of Roosevelt's greatest political battles was fought over the regulation of the railroads.
He wanted fair rates for all railroad shippers without discrimination, and desired "to set
up a moral standard." There was a mounting feeling in the country against the "rebates"
of the railroads, given to powerful companies but denied to smaller ones, with hardly any
two shippers paying the same rates. The system worked against the farmers and small
businessmen and was grossly unjust. President Roosevelt asked Congress for a law which
"shall summarily and effectively prevent the imposition of unjust and unreasonable rates."

478

THE INFANT HERCULES AND THE STANDARD OIL SERPENTS. F. A. Nanki-
vell's cartoon in Puck, May 23, 1906, shows Roosevelt with Rockefeller and Rogers.
On March 4, 1906, while the railroad regulation was being debated in the Senate, the
President made public the report of the Bureau of Corporations on the Standard Oil Com-
pany. This report revealed "that the Standard Oil Company has benefited enormously up
almost to the present moment by secret rates" amounting to at least three quarters
of a million a year. On March 18 the Senate finally passed the Hepburn Act, which
strengthened the Interstate Commerce Commission's rate-making powers and gave it juris-
diction over pipelines, Pullman operation, and other important transportation matters.

479

THE RECENT FLURRY IN THE SENATE -J. S. PUGHE IN PUCK, MARCH 21, 1906

FIGHTING FOR THE RAILROAD BILL

The battle between Roosevelt and the Senate raged
over the control of the railroad companies' rate-fix-
ing power. Roosevelt demanded that his Interstate
Commerce Commission be given "the power to re-
vise rates and regulations." Senator Aldrich, the
son-in-law of Rockefeller, leading the Senate oppo-
sition, fought the President's contention. Aldrich
pleaded for court decision about unfair rates— which
in the final outcome would have proven ineffective.
But Roosevelt stood by his demand — he battled
manfully against the many-headed senatorial mon-
ster (see cartoon by J. S. Pughe on the left) and
won a victory. Though the radical provisos of the
Hepburn bill were modified by the Senate, the
passing of it represented a great step forward in the
regulation of the railroads. Still, the fundamental
issue was not solved— to determine rates through
the evaluation of railroad properties and the cost of
service. That was left until a much later day.

480

A SHORT INTERVIEW IN THE WHITE HOUSE

THE PANIC OF 1907

In 1907 the booming prosperity of the Roosevelt
years gave way to severe financial unrest. Those who
opposed Roosevelt pointed a finger at the President
who "undermined public confidence." Edward
Harriman told reporters: "I would hate to tell you
to whom I think you ought to go for an explanation
of all this." And Roosevelt retorted that certain
malefactors of great wealth continued "to bring
about as much financial stress as possible" to em-
barrass the government. Both Roosevelt and Harri-
man indulged in partisan recriminations. The causes
of the economic unrest lay deeper — it was neither
caused by the government nor by the malefactors of
great wealth; it had been a world-wide phenomenon.

The crisis reached its climax in the third week of
October when the Knickerbocker Trust Company
of New York failed and numerous other banks trem-
bled on the brink of disaster. On October 22, Secre-
tary of Treasury Cortelyou hurried to New York,
where he met with J. P. Morgan and other bankers.
He assured the financiers that the Treasury would
deposit $25,000,000 of its surplus funds in the New
York national banks; after this Morgan, Harriman,
Rockefeller, and others invested even larger funds in
institutions which they deemed worthy of saving.

Early in November it became evident that the
brokerage house of Moore & Schley was in grave
difficulties because it held as collateral $5,000,000
worth of stock of the Tennessee Coal and Iron Com-
pany which it was unable to turn into cash. Morgan
and his colleagues, who at this time seemed to rule
over the nation's financial policies, came up with the
idea that the United States Steel Corporation should
purchase the Tennessee Coal and Iron Company
and thus validate its securities.

Elbert H, Gary and Henry C. Frick, the president
and a director of U. S. Steel, rushed to Washington
to sec Roosevelt. Early Monday morning — Novem-
ber 4— they saw the President and told him that in
an effort to save "a certain business concern" and
stem the tide, they would have to purchase the stock
of Tennessee Coal and Iron for $40,000,000, but
would do it only if the government would give assur-
ance that the merger would not lead to prosecution
under the Sherman Act.

Although the merger increased U. S. Steel's share
of the market from 50 per cent to 60 per cent,
Roosevelt acquiesced. His assurance was telephoned
to New York, where Morgan and his partners
awaited the news. Within minutes the sale was
made, and the stock market catastrophe avoided.

THE RUN OF THE WORRIED DEPOSITORS

A subsequent congressional investigation revealed
that Judge Gary misrepresented the situation to the
President and that the Morgan interests bought the

482

ON THE TRUST COMPANY OF NORTH AMERICA IN WALL STREET ON OCTOBER 25, 1907

Tennessee Coal and Iron because it was a bargain
at $40,000,000 and not because they desired to save
Moore & Schley. But by then the financial panic

of 1907 was long over, and nobody could do any-
thing about the hundreds of millions that Morgan
and his colleagues had made on the transaction.

483

" WALL STREET PAINTS A PICTURE OF THE PRESIDENT" —A CARTOON IN COLLIER'S

484

CHAPTER XXXV

WAR CLOUDS
IN THE PACIFIC

Roosevelt's good offices on behalf of Japan were little appreciated in that
country. The Japanese were at first grateful for his bringing the representatives
of the two warring nations to a conference, but at the conclusion of the peace
treaty they became resentful because they were not able to secure indemnity
payments from Russia. For this they blamed Roosevelt and the American
people. In September 1905 there were severe anti- American riots in Japan.

Friction between the two countries was further inflamed when, ten months
later, Japanese seal-hunting poachers raided the Pribilof Islands off Alaska and
were driven back by an American patrol. Five Japanese lost their lives in the
encounter.

Nor was the feeling of Americans toward Japan friendlier. There was a steady
anti-Japanese agitation on the West Coast, where infiltration of Japanese im-
migrants caused fears that the cheap Oriental labor would undermine the
standard of American living. Newspapers — printing lurid tales of the "Yellow
Peril" and stirring the readers to near-hysteria — fomented these flames of hate.

When on October 11, 1906, the San Francisco Board of Education issued
an order excluding Japanese pupils from the city's school system, matters came
to a head; war between the two nations became a possibility. To the emphatic
protest of the Japanese government, Roosevelt replied on October 26: "Thru
the Department of Justice we are already taking steps in San Francisco to see
if we cannot remedy the matter thru the courts. . . ." And he promised: "I shall
exert all the power I have under the Constitution to protect the rights of the
Japanese who are here, and shall deal with the subject at length in my message
to Congress."

To his son Kermit he wrote: "I am being horribly bothered about the
Japanese business. The infernal fools in California, and especially in San Fran-
cisco, insult the Japanese recklessly, and in the event of war it will be the Nation
as a whole which will pay the consequences. However I hope to keep things
straight. I am perfectly willing that this Nation should fight any nation if it
has got to, but I would loathe to see it forced into a war in which it was wrong."

His eyes on the future, he told Senator Eugene Hale that if Japan is "suffi-
ciently irritated and humiliated by us she will get to accept us instead of Russia
as the national enemy whom she will ultimately have to fight; and under such
circumstances her concentration and continuity of purpose, and the exceedingly
formidable character of her army and navy, make it necessary to reckon very

485

seriously with her. It seems to me that all of this necessitates our having a defi-
nite policy with regard to her; a policy of behaving with absolute good faith,
courtesy and justice to her on the one hand, and on the other, of keeping our
navy in such shape as to make it a risky thing for Japan to go into war with
us "

After lengthy negotiations with public leaders in San Francisco and the
government in Tokyo, a compromise was effected by which San Francisco
agreed to rescind its segregation policy and Tokyo agreed to prohibit the influx
of Japanese laborers to the United States, limiting emigration mainly to mer-
chants and students. Furthermore, Roosevelt promised to push through Con-
gress legislation barring immigration of Japanese laborers from Hawaii, Mexico,
and Canada. Unhappily, the compromise did not mark the end of the troubles.
Agitation against the Japanese continued, and in the early summer of 1907
these feelings erupted into riots in which Japanese restaurants and restaurant
keepers were attacked in San Francisco.

Roosevelt held that the San Franciscans' insult of the Japanese was wanton
and foolish, therefore "everything we can do must be done to remedy the
wrongs complained of/5 To Cabot Lodge he wrote: "I shall continue to do
everything I can by politeness and consideration to the Japs to offset the worse
than criminal stupidity of the San Francisco mob, the San Francisco press, and
such papers as the New York Herald. I do not believe we shall have war; but
it is no fault of the yellow press if we do not have it. The Japanese seem to
have about the same proportion of prize jingo fools that we have."

The President received alarming reports through his diplomatic pipelines.
According to one account, a Japanese diplomat in Russia declared that his
country was ready to move against the Philippine Islands, Alaska, and even
the Pacific Coast. According to other reports from the British Intelligence
service, Japan was preparing war against the United States. From Kaiser
Wilhelm II came word that 10,000 Japanese soldiers, disguised as laborers,
were already in Mexico, ready to move into United States territory.

Throughout the crisis Roosevelt remained calm, maintaining a consistently
conciliatory attitude toward Japan. At the same time, he was ready to show
that his conciliatory attitude should not be interpreted as a sign of American
weakness, for he was quite convinced (as he explained to Secretary of State
Root) that "the only thing which will prevent war is the Japanese feeling that
we shall not be beaten." He decided to send the American battle fleet on a
trip around the world to demonstrate the nation's naval prowess to the world
in general and to Japan in particular.

Although the Japanese crisis was the principal motive for the battle fleet's
voyage, it was by no means the only one. "In the first place," Roosevelt wrote
to Root, "I think it will have a pacific effect to show that it can be done; and
in the next place, after talking thoroughly over the situation with the naval
board I became convinced that it was absolutely necessary for us in time of
peace to see just what we could do in the way of putting a big battle fleet in
the Pacific, and not make the experiment in time of war." Later he wrote in
his Autobiography: "It seemed to me evident that such a voyage would greatly

486

benefit the Navy itself; would arouse popular interest in and enthusiasm for
the Navy; and would make foreign nations accept as a matter of course that
our fleet should from time to time be gathered in the Pacific, just as from time
to time it was gathered in the Atlantic, and that its presence in one ocean was
no more to be accepted as a mark of hostility to any Asiatic power than its
presence in the Atlantic was to be accepted as a mark of hostility to any
European power."

The fleet's voyage was an immense undertaking; the complexity of its
organization and supply enormous. Foreign naval experts were firm in their
belief that it could not be done. At home vigorous objections were raised, espe-
cially from the Eastern Seaboard, where people became alarmed at the removal
of the fleet from the waters of the Atlantic. In the Senate the chairman of the
Committee on Naval Affairs announced that money for the voyage would not
be appropriated, to which the President replied that he already had enough
funds to send the fleet to the Pacific, and that if Congress declined to appro-
priate additional funds, the fleet would be left there. "I will tolerate no assault
upon the Navy or upon the honor of the country," Roosevelt said, unor will I
permit anything so fraught with menace as the usurpation by any clique of
Wall Street Senators of my function as Commander-in-Chief." For the success
or failure of the undertaking he accepted full responsibility. "I determined on
the move without consulting the Cabinet, precisely as I took Panama without
consulting the Cabinet. A council of war never fights, and in a crisis the duty
of the leader is to lead and not to take refuge behind the generally timid wisdom
of a multitude of councillors."

The fleet, composed of sixteen battleships and lesser vessels, with crews
totaling some twelve thousand officers and men, steamed out of Hampton
Roads on December 16, 1907. The fears that the voyage would bring Japanese
retaliation were dispelled when Japan extended an invitation for the naval
officers and men to visit her shores. By the time the ships had sailed from Japan
to the Philippines and back home through the Mediterranean, the war clouds
that had looked so ominous a few months before had disappeared.

On Washington's birthday of 1909, sixteen months after they had set out
on their historic trip, the battleships returned to Hampton Roads — an
occasion of national pride and rejoicing. Once again the President, now but
ten days from the end of his reign, watched the proceedings from the deck of
the Mayflower. "Over a year has passed since you steamed out of this harbor,
and over the world's rim," he told the officers and men of Admiral Sperry's
flagship, "and this morning the hearts of all who saw you thrilled with pride
as the hulls of the mighty warships lifted above the horizon. . . . We welcome
you home to the country whose good repute among nations has been raised
by what you have done." Later, to the admirals and skippers assembled in the
Mayflower cabin, he put his deep pride into more concrete terms. "Isn't it
magnificent?" he said. "Nobody after this will forget that the American coast
is on the Pacific as well as on the Atlantic."

487

TROUBLE WITH JAPAN

THE TEST CASE. When the nine-year-old Japa-
nese Keikichi Aoki was refused admission by Miss
M. E. Dean, Principal of the Reading Primary
School in San Francisco, the federal government
brought suit against the San Francisco Board of
Education. Roosevelt wrote Elihu Root that the suit
"should be prest as rapidly as possible." The prosecu-
tion was later abandoned when the United States
reached a "Gentlemen's Agreement" with Japan.

JAPANESE WAR SCARE

This cartoon by Louis M. Glackens in Puck on
October 23, 1907, alludes to President Roosevelt's
contention that "the war talk is due entirely to
newspapers, which seek to increase their sales, and
which for political reasons attack the government."

488

THE SCARECROW OF THE PACIFIC. J. S.

After the conclusion of the Russo-Japanese peace
treaty in Portsmouth, relationships between Japan
and the United States deteriorated, as Japan mis-
takenly believed that America had blocked their
demand for indemnity payments from Russia. In
anti-American rioting at Tokyo, four American
churches were burned by the enraged mob.

The feeling against Japan in the United States—
especially on the West Coast—was not friendlier.
The agitation in California against the Japanese

V . l^fi$^'$?i

PUGHE'S CARTOON OF 1907, IN PUCK,

mounted, and Hearst's San Francisco Examiner
fanned the discontent with its "Yellow Peril" articles.
Things came to a head in October 1906 when the
San Francisco Board of Education excluded Japanese
pupils from the city's school system. The Japanese
government protested against this as a violation of
the Japanese- American Treaty of 1894. Roosevelt
felt that Japan was not treated fairly. "I am being
horribly bothered about the Japanese business,"
wrote he to his son Kermit. "The infernal fools in

DEPICTS OUR NAVY'S RACE TO JAPAN

California, and especially in San Francisco, insult
the Japanese recklessly, and in the event of war it
will be the Nation as a whole which will pay the
consequences."

The dispute ended in a compromise; San Francisco
agreed to rescind its segregation policy, and Japan
prohibited the influx of Japanese laborers to the
United States. Still the agitation against the "Yellow
Peril" had not come to an end; it erupted again
a year later, with severe rioting in San Francisco.

489

"THE MOST IMPORTANT SERVICE that I
rendered to peace" was Roosevelt's comment about
his ordering the fleet around the world. Sixteen ves-
sels under Rear Admiral Robley D. Evans left on
December 16, 1907, with Roosevelt watching their
departure from the Mayflower. The fleet's voyage had

a twofold purpose: (1) to impress Japan that America
would not be intimidated; (2) to create sentiment in
Congress for increased naval expenditures. Both aims
were realized. Japan did not shoot at the American
vessels, but feted the officers and men, and Con-
gress appropriated funds for two new battleships.

490

CHAPTER XXXVI

THE END OF THE REIGN

"There are plenty of people who really want me to run for a third term who,
if I did run, would feel very much disappointed in me and would feel that I
had come short of the ideal they had formed of me," wrote Roosevelt to his
son Kermit. Regardless of pressures, he would not renege on the promise given
after his election. He would not be a candidate or accept another nomination.

Curiously enough, the economic setbacks and the increasing hostility of
Congress had increased the people's admiration for him. The New York Times,
polling newspaper editors across the nation, reported that he was "stronger
with the people than ever before." The third-term tradition, said the Times,
"will not in the slightest degree avail against the wave of popular favor that
now promises to make Mr. Roosevelt the candidate of next year. With
the spirit he has invoked and stirred, tradition counts for nothing."

Determined to be "a full president right up to the end," Roosevelt's power
over Congress nonetheless became weak as his reign was nearing its close.
During the congressional session which began at the end of 1907, he sent a total
of twenty messages to Capitol Hill, and most of them were disregarded by the
lawmakers. A year later, at the "lame duck session," the struggle between the
executive and legislative branches of the government descended to the level of
childish bickering when Roosevelt asked the repeal of an act which, among
other things, forbade the Secret Service to investigate the affairs of Congress-
men. The House, by the overwhelming vote of 212 to 35, rejected the presi-
dential message — a stinging rebuke to the President.

As Congress became less receptive to Presidential proposals, the suggestions
themselves became more radical. Because of his own growing disenchantment
with the leaders of the business community, and in response to public unrest
resulting from the financial panic, Roosevelt came forward with a series of
boldly progressive pronouncements. He argued that both an income and an
inheritance tax "should be part of our system of federal taxation." He vigor-
ously criticized the Supreme Court for invalidating the Employers' Liability
Act of 1906 and reversing the $29,000,000 fine that had been levied against
Standard Oil for accepting railroad rebates. And he sent Congress an outspoken
message urging sharp restrictions on "gambling in the stock market," legisla-
tion allowing the Interstate Commerce Commission to determine the physical
valuation of railroads as a means toward more comprehensive rate-making,
and limitations on the use of injunctions against labor unions.

It was in this message that the President described as his aim "the moral re-
generation of the business world." The economic distress, he argued, was due not

491

to any anti-business policy in the White House, as had been alleged, but rather
to "the speculative folly and flagrant dishonesty of a few men of great wealth."

When speculation about a third term had become persistent, presidential
secretary William Loeb told his chief that the only way to squelch such rumors
was to choose a successor. In other words, the President would have to run a
candidate against himself in order to be sure that the Republican convention
would not find itself so divided between competing candidacies that it would
stampede him for a third term.

Roosevelt's preference as political heir would have been Elihu Root, his
Secretary of State. "I would walk on my hands and knees from the White House
to the Capitol to see Root made President," he had once told a friend; but he
knew that Root, who was a former corporation lawyer, could never be chosen.
Thus he turned to the faithful William Howard Taft, the man who had served
him as governor-general of the Philippines, as Secretary of War, and as an in-
valuable trouble-shooter and envoy-at-large. The affable Taft had great admin-
istrative abilities, but no political acumen and none of Roosevelt's crusading
zeal. He would have preferred to be on the Supreme Court rather than to
become President. Yet persuaded by his ambitious wife, his half-brother, and
other friends he kept himself available for the Presidency by declining all
offers of a judicial appointment.

Early in 1908, Roosevelt started to organize the campaign for Taft's nomi-
nation, channeling abundant publicity toward the heir-apparent and even
employing his patronage power to ensure the selection of Taft- pledged dele-
gates. By the spring of that year, control over the Republican convention was
assured, and Roosevelt felt that "all opposition to Taft had died down." Still
he remained cautious; he would take no chances. He saw to it that his friend
Senator Cabot Lodge was installed as chairman of the convention and would
keep the reins in his hand. He knew that if Taft failed to win on the first ballot,
"there is a chance of a stampede to me, and if it really gets underway nothing
that I could do would stop it." Such a scare came when, the day before the
balloting, Senator Lodge's reference to Roosevelt as "the best abused and the
most popular man in the United States today" provoked forty-nine minutes
of frenzied cheering. Lodge could restore order over the convention only by
warning the delegates that * anyone who attempts to use his name as a candi-
date for the Presidency impugns both his sincerity and his good faith."

The convention, bowing to Roosevelt's will, nominated Taft. They would
have nominated anyone whom their idol suggested.

The campaign was dull. Taft was not a dynamic candidate, and William
Jennings Bryan, chosen by the Democrats to oppose him as a third-time
nominee could no longer arouse the interest of the electorate. Roosevelt, who
had promised not to be a "busybody," was puzzled and disappointed because
Taft "does not arouse the enthusiasm which his record and personality
warranted us in believing he would arouse." He urged him: "Hit them hard,
old man!" — an admonition of little avail. Some excitement was injected in the
contest when William Randolph Hearst, running as a splinter candidate on
the Independence Party platform, made public a series of letters apparently

492

proving that Senator Forakcr had been on the payroll of Standard Oil Com-
pany. Roosevelt, wanting "to put a little vim into the campaign by making a
publication of my own," attacked Foraker sharply, even though Taft wondered
whether it was fair to "hit a man when he is down."

The result of the election was a Republican victory, and £ great victory for
Roosevelt. His influence was so strong that the people, trusting him, voted for
his hand-picked successor. Taft won with 321 electoral votes against Bryan's
162. "The first letter I wish to write is to you," came a message from the
President-elect to Roosevelt, "because you have always been the chief agent
in working out the present state of affairs, and my selection and election are
chiefly your work."

The election brought the exciting years in the White House to a close. An
English journalist asked Roosevelt about his future plans and he answered:
"When people have spoken to me as to what America should do with its
ex-Presidents, I have always answered that there was one ex-President as to
whom they need not concern themselves in the least, because I would do for
myself. It would be to me a personally unpleasant thing to be pensioned and
given some honorary position. I emphatically do not desire to clutch at the
fringe of departing greatness." His plans were made. He had agreed to write
twelve articles a year at $1000 apiece for The Outlook, a weekly journal of
opinion. He would go big-game hunting in Africa — "my last chance for some-
thing in the nature of a 'great adventure.' " And upon his return he would fight
for political, social, and industrial reform "just as I have been fighting for it
for the twenty-eight years that I have been in politics."

Parting from the Presidency was not an easy task for a man who, by his own
testimony, had "enjoyed it to the full." On the last day of December in 1908
he said in a note to Taft: "Ha! Ha! You are making up your Cabinet. / in a
lighthearted way have spent the morning testing the rifles for my African trip.
Life has its compensations!" But the regrets were at least as great as the antici-
pations. On March 1, 1909, he gave a luncheon to his "Tennis Cabinet," and
when he offered a fond farewell toast to the thirty-one guests who had been
his closest and most devoted comrades through the previous seven and one half
years, many of them wept unashamedly. Three days later, on the eve of the
inaugural, President-elect and Mrs. Taft were guests at a dinner which Taft
remembered as "that funeral."

Yet in a letter to his son Kermit, Roosevelt spoke cheerfully about leaving the
Presidency. "I have had a great run for my money," he said, "and I should have
liked to stay in as President if I had felt it was right for me to do so; but there
are many compensations about going, and Mother and I are in the curious
and very pleasant position of having enjoyed the White House more than any
other President and his wife whom I recall, and yet being entirely willing to
leave it, and looking forward to a life of interest and happiness after we leave."

493

LIEUTENANT GENERAL NELSON A. MILES,

"a brave peacock" in the Roosevelt language, who
clashed with the President when he voiced an opin-
ion on the findings of a Naval Court of Inquiry. The
Court, investigating the conduct of Rear Admirals
William T. Sampson and Winfield S. Schley at
the battle of Santiago, found Schley guilty of
errors in judgment. Admiral Dewey, one of the
judges, dissented. At this point General Miles, who
had no connection with the inquiry and wjhose opin-
ion was not asked, entered the fray, declaring that
he would rather take the judgment of Admiral
Dewey than that of the final finding of the Naval
Court of Inquiry. Elihu Root, the Secretary of War,
got furious. It was not Milcs's business to criticize
the Court's finding. Such behavior was "subversive
of discipline." Root consulted Roosevelt, who ap-
proved his suggestion to censure Miles. The General
hurried to the White House to defend his action, but
the President told him bluntly that his conduct had
"been not merely silly but insubordinate and un-
military." Miles, soon to be forced into retirement,
left the meeting a broken man. Roosevelt had never
liked the General, holding him responsible for some
of the mismanagement in the Spanish-American War.

MARIA LONGWORTH STORER,

a close friend of the Roosevelts and a meddlesome
woman. As wife of the American Ambassador in
Vienna, she worked relentlessly to have Archbishop
Ireland of St. Paul, Minnesota, elevated to Cardinal,
inferring to the Vatican that this was the wish of
President Roosevelt as well. When in March 1906
she desired to see the Pope as the accredited agent
of the American government "to secure a Cardinal's
hat for Archbishop Ireland," Roosevelt's temper
flared. Members of the Cabinet urged him to recall
Ambassador Storer at once, but, reluctant to dismiss
the man who had once helped him to secure the
post of Assistant Secretary of the Navy, the Presi-
dent sent a letter to the Ambassador and included a
note for his wife. In this he asked a written promise
that she would no longer interfere in diplomatic
matters. The Storers, hurt and angry, left the letter
unanswered. Roosevelt wrote once more; and when
the second communication was disregarded, he de-
manded the Ambassador's resignation. Some months
later the Storers issued a pamphlet in which they
printed some of Roosevelt's letters to them, where-
upon Roosevelt released many more letters which
showed that his behavior in the matter was correct.

494

JOSEPH B. FORAKER,

with whom Roosevelt disagreed over the Negro
troops' dismissal because of the Brownsville affair.

On the nighl of August 14, 1906, shooting broke
out at Brownsville, Texas, in which one man was
killed, two men were wounded, allegedly shot by
men belonging to three all-Negro companies sta-
tioned at Fort Brown. When none of the soldiers
would confess, the President gave his authorization
for the dishonorable discharge of all three companies.

In the Senate, Foraker attacked Roosevelt and his
unjust order, claiming it was based on insufficient
and false information. Though Roosevelt explained
that "the opposition to me on Brownsville was simply
a cloak to cover antagonism . . . about trusts, swol-
len fortunes and the like," this was not the case.

At a Gridiron Club dinner in Washington on Jan-
uary 26, 1907, Roosevelt and Foraker faced each
other and made bitter speeches. To his son-in-law
Roosevelt wrote: "That scoundrel, Foraker, is doing
all the damage he can with the negroes. ... A
blacker wrong . . . than Foraker and his friends have
committed it would not be possible to imagine."

But later, during the Barnes trial, Roosevelt lauded
Foraker as an honest man who had his respect.

EDWARD H. HARRIMAN,

the railroad man, for years had friendly relations
with Roosevelt. The two clashed when a personal
letter of Harriman was printed in the New York
World on April 2, 1907, regarding the 1904 election.

In his letter to a friend, which was sold to the
newspaper for $150, Harriman said that in the fall
of 1904 Roosevelt "told me that he understood the
campaign could not be carried on without sufficient
money, and asked me if I would help them in raising
the necessary funds." Harriman was ready to collect
the funds if Chauncey Depew, whose re-election to
another Senate term split the Republican ranks,
could "be taken care of in some other way." Roose-
velt supposedly promised to name Depew as Ambas-
sador to France, whereupon Harriman contributed
850,000 for the campaign and brought in another
$200,000. But after the Republicans won the election,
Roosevelt would not keep his side of the bargain.

Roosevelt retorted that this was not so, charged
Harriman with lying, and heaped his choicest epi-
thets on the unfortunate railroad man. He emphati-
cally stated that he "never requested Mr. Harriman
to raise a dollar for the Presidential campaign of
1 904," and disavowed any promise to appoint Depew.

495

WHAT HE THOUGHT OF TOLSTOY

"First as to Tolstoy's immorality. Have you ever
read his Kreutzer Sonata . . . ?" he asked Lawrence
Abbott. "The man who wrote that was a sexual and
a moral pervert. It is as unhealthy a book,»as vicious
in its teaching to the young, as Elinor Glyn's Three
Weeks or any other piece of pornographic literature —
I think that the love of the really happy husband and
wife ... is the loftiest and most ennobling influence that
comes into the life of any man or woman. . . . The
cheapest . . . and most repulsive cynicism is that which
laughs at, or describes as degraded, this relation."

WHAT HE THOUGHT OF EMILE ZOLA

"Of course the net result of Zola's writings has been
evil. Where one man has gained from them a shud-
dering horror at existing wrong which has impelled
him to try to right that wrong, a hundred have
simply had the lascivious, the beast side of their
natures strengthened and intensified by them."

HIS OPINIONS ON

WHAT HE THOUGHT OF DANTE

"When Dante deals with the crimes which he most
abhorred, simony and barratry, he flails offenders of
his age who were of the same type as those who in
our days flourish by political or commercial corrup-
tion; and he names his offenders, both those just
dead and those still living, and puts them, popes
and politicians alike, in hell. There have been trust
magnates and politicians and editors and magazine
writers in our own country whose lives and deeds
were no more edifying than those of the men who
lie in the third and the fifth chasm of the eighth
circle of the Inferno; yet for a poet to name those
men would be condemned as an instance of shock-
ing taste. ... I must say I should thoroughly enjoy
having a Dante write of a number of our present-day
politicians, labor leaders, and Wall Street people!
When he came to deal with the worst offenders among
our newspaper editors and magazine writers, I hope
he would not dignify them by putting them in a
circle of flame, but leave them in the circles of pitch
and of filth."

WHAT HE THOUGHT OF SHAKESPEARE

"You will ... be amused to hear that at last, when
fifty years old, I have come into my inheritance in
Shakespeare. I never before really cared for more
than one or two of his plays; but for some inexplica-
ble reason the sealed book was suddenly opened to
me on this trip. ... I still balk at three or four of
Shakespeare's plays; but most of them I have read
or am reading over and over again. . . ."

WHAT HE THOUGHT OF WALT WHITMAN

"... a warped, although a rugged, genius of Ameri-
can poetry. . . .

"Of all the poets of the nineteenth century, Walt
Whitman was the only one who dared use the
Bowery — that is, use anything that was striking and
vividly typical of the humanity around him — as
Dante used the ordinary humanity of his day; and
even Whitman was not quite natural in doing so, for
he always felt that he was defying the conventions
and prejudices of his neighbors, and his self-
consciousness made him a little defiant. . . . Whit-
man wrote of homely things and every-day men, and
of their greatness, but his art was not equal to his
power and his purpose. ..."

WHAT HE THOUGHT OF LONGFELLOW

"He is more than simply sweet and wholesome. His
ballad-like poetry, such as 'The Saga of King Olaf,'

LITERARY FIGURES

'The Discovery of the North Cape,' 'Belisarius,' and
others, especially of the sea, have it seems to me the
strength as well as the simplicity that marks Walter
Scott and the old English ballad writers. . . .

"Longfellow's love of peace was profound; but he
was a man, and a wise man, and he knew that cow-
ardice does not promote peace, and that even the
great evil of war may be a less evil than cringing to
iniquity."

WHAT HE THOUGHT OF HOLMES

"Oliver Wendell Holmes, of course, is the laughing
philosopher, the humorist at his very highest, even if
we use the word 'humor' only in its most modern and
narrow sense."

WHAT HE THOUGHT OF LOWELL

"I like his literary essays; but what a real mugwump
he gradually became, as he let his fastidiousness, his
love of ease and luxury, and his shrinking from the
necessary roughness of contact with the world, grow
upon him! I think his sudden painting of Dante as
a mugwump is deliciously funny. I suppose that his
character was not really strong, and that he was
permanently injured by association with the Charles
Eliot Norton type, and above all by following that
impossible creature, Godkin."

WHAT HE THOUGHT OF WHITTIER

"It seems to me that all good Americans should feel
a peculiar pride in Whittier, exactly because he com-
bined the power of expression and the great gift of
poetry, with a flaming zeal for righteousness which
made him a leader in matters of the spirit no less than
of the intellect."

WHAT HE THOUGHT OF W. J. LONG

"It may be that I have helped Long from the
financial standpoint, for that lying scoundrel is too
shamelessly dishonest to mind the scorn of honest
men if his infamy adds to his receipts; and of course it
advertises him to be in a controversy with me. But I
think I have pretty well destroyed his credit with all
decent men of even moderate intelligence."

WHAT HE THOUGHT OF E. A. ROBINSON

"I hunted him up, found he was having a very hard
time, and put him in the Treasury Department. I
think he will do his work all right, but I am free to
say that he was put in less with a view to the good
of the government service than with a view to help-
ing American letters." And he wrote to him: "I ex-
pect you to think poetry first and Treasury second."

WHAT HE THOUGHT OF GORKY

The Russian writer came to the United States in
April 1906 to raise funds in the cause of Russian
emancipation. In New York he was expelled from
his hotel for sharing his rooms with Madame Andre-
iava, a Russian actress who was not his legal wife.
When Gorky asked for an interview, Roosevelt re-
fused to see him. He wrote sharply: "Gorky in his
domestic relations seems to represent with nice exact-
ness the general continental European revolutionary
attitude, which in governmental matters is a revolt
against order as well as against tyranny, and in
domestic matters is a revolt against the ordinary
decencies and moralities even more than against
conventional hypocrisies and cruelties."

WHAT HE THOUGHT OF DICKENS

"It always interests me about Dickens to think how
much first-class work he did and how almost all of
it was mixed up with every kind of cheap, second-
rate matter. I am very fond of him. There are innu-
merable characters that he has created which sym-
bolize vices, virtues, follies, and the like . . . therefore
I think the wise thing to do is simply to skip the
bosh and twaddle and vulgarity and untruth, and
get the benefit out of the rest. Of course one funda-
mental difference between Thackeray and Dickens
is that Thackeray was a gentleman and Dickens
was not. But a man might do some mighty good
work and not be a gentleman in any sense."

497

A FEW SHOTS AT THE KING'S ENGLISH. A cartoon by E. W.
Kemble in Collier's Weekly in September 1 906, shortly after Roosevelt
tried to introduce spelling reforms in printing government documents.

SIMPLIFIED SPELLING

This was one of Roosevelt's most
amusing controversies. Brander
Matthews of Columbia University
persuaded him to join the ranks
of the spelling reformers, and
Roosevelt took up the fight at
once. At first the suggested
changes were moderate and em-
braced only 300 words. For ex-
ample: honour, parlour, labour
were to be written without the
"u." Programme and catalogue
were to be program and catalog.
The "re" in theatre, centre, sabre
was to be reversed; instead of
cheque and comptroller, it would
be check and controller. In some
words like surprise and compro-
mise, us" was to become "z."
Double letters in instill, fulfill,
distill were eliminated, whiskey
shortened to whisky, mamma to
mama. The changes most resisted
were "tho," "thoro," and "thru."
"Nothing escapes Mr. Ruce-
velt," wrote "Marse Henry"
Waterson in the Louisville Courier.
"No subject is tu hi for him to
takl, nor tu lo for him to notis."

A MEMO BY ROOT

Elihu Root could take the lib-
erty of teasing the President by
sending him a note in simplified
spelling, not long after Roosevelt
ordered the Public Printer to use
new spellings for 300 words.
When Congress reassembled
and the President sent his annual
message in the new spelling, the
storm broke. The lawmakers
adopted a resolution forbidding
the printing of public documents
in orthography not accepted by
standard dictionaries. After the
rebuke, Roosevelt withdrew his
order but promised to continue
using the new spelling in his
own private correspondence.

498

^>;;:-:fc '''-v.V^i:^
••*-'xy*^^ :";' • ••"•':' '•'.v^'-^*^^

A "POINT TO POINT" WALK in Washington's Rock Creek Park was a part of
Roosevelt's regular exercise. "Over and through, never around" was his motto, and
those who accompanied him could barely keep up with the pace he set over jutting
rocks and through swollen streams. Once his heart gave out while climbing, and
his companions had to pull him up a cliff and wait forty minutes for him to recover.

499

THE REPUBLICAN CONTENDERS

THE "BEARDED LADY" was Roosevelt's descrip-
tion of Charles Evans Hughes, who would have
liked to receive the Republican nomination in 1908.

"IF ONLY THERE WERE THREE OF YOU,"

Roosevelt once wrote to Taft. But he warned his
friend of too much publicity on the golf course.

"THE COURTSHIP OF BILL TAFT." A cartoon
by Joseph Keppler in Puck on April 24, 1907, which
made America chuckle. In it "John Alden" Roose-
velt speaks for "Miles Standish" Taft, and Priscilla
asks, "Why don't you speak for yourself, Theodore?"
Still, no decision was reached.

Early one morning a year later, Roosevelt's secre-
tary, William Loeb, Jr., told the President that "we
must have a candidate. If things continue to drift
along as now, our friends may lose control." Roose-
velt replied that the man whom he would like to see

500

as his successor was Elihu Root, the Secretary of War.
"I would walk on my hands and knees from the
White House to the Capitol to see Root made Presi-
dent," he once remarked. But when Loeb came to
Root with the message, Root said: "Please tell the
President that I appreciate deeply every word, but I
cannot be a candidate. It would mean a fight in the
convention and I could not be elected. I've thought
it all out. Thank the President, but tell him I am
not in the running."

After Root's refusal Roosevelt told Loeb: "We had

better turn to Taft. See Taft and tell him of our talk
today — tell him all of it so he will know my mind."
Taft accepted Roosevelt's endorsement with joy.
And when the Republican Nominating Convention
met in Chicago, the delegates ratified the President's
choice on the first ballot. In the elefction Taft defeated
William Jennings Bryan, whom the Democrats nom-
inated for the third time, and Eugene V. Debs, also
a third-time contender for the Socialist party. Taft's
popular vote was 7,677,788; Bryan's, 6,407,982;
Debs's, 420,890; and Chapin's, 252,511.

501

AN ENGLISH CARTOONISTS COMMENT ON ROOSEVELT'S SUCCESSOR

Bernard Partridge, who four and a half decades before had assailed Abraham Lincoln in
Punch, now used his sharp pen against Theodore Roosevelt. In the biting cartoon "The
Heir Presumptive," which the English weekly printed on June 17, 1908, President Roosevelt
tells Taft: "There, sonny, I've fixed you up so they won't know the difference between us."

502

ALONE I DIDN'T DO IT! is the title of this superb Partridge cartoon in Punch on
November 11, 1908, after the news reached England that William Howard Taft had been
elected to the American Presidency. Taft defeated William Jennings Bryan, the three-time
Democratic candidate, with 321 electoral votes against his opponent's 162. In the caption
under the drawing, the breathless but triumphant President-elect says: "Thank you, Teddy!"

503

IT Will

IMP THIS

SIK UP.

TWO OF ROOSEVELT'S FAVORITE CARTOONS

"IT WILL END THIS SIDE UP," a cartoon by "HIS FAVORITE AUTHOR," a cartoon by Lowry
Westerman in the Ohio State Journal, indicating how the in the Chicago Chronicle. Roosevelt put this one in a
American people felt about Roosevelt and Congress, frame and hung it on his study wall at Oyster Bay.

MARCH 2, 1909: THE LAST MEETING WITH THE CABINET

CELEBRATING THE 100TH ANNIVERSARY OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN'S BIRTH

President Roosevelt on February 12, 1909, journeyed to Hodgenville, Ky., where he
spoke in honor of "the mightiest of the mighty men who mastered the mighty days."

505

THE END OF THE REIGN

FAREWELL, TEDDY! Weeping newspaper corre-
spondents say good-by to the President. They know
that never again will they have such good copy.

ONE OF HIS LAST OFFICIAL ACTS. On Feb-
ruary 22, 1909, at Hampton Roads, Va., Roosevelt
welcomed the fleet from its voyage around the world.
"Not until some American fleet returns victorious
from a great sea battle," prophesied he, "will there
be another such homecoming and such a sight."

A SNOWY INAGURATION. A

bitter storm blew on March 4, 1909;
snow and ice cut Washington off from

the rest of the world The weather was so severe be a cold day when I became President of the U.S."

£rS±srJr£Snt= tMttjrasK?

507

Part 4:
PRIVATE CITIZEN

THE OLD AND THE NEW

Theodore Roosevelt poses with President-

CHAPTER XXXVII

THE GREAT ADVENTURE
AND ITS AFTERMATH

William Howard Taft was installed in Washington, and Theodore Roosevelt
was on his way to Africa. After seven and one half years in the White House he
was once more a private citizen.

Despite the popular toast in the clubs of the rich "Health to the lions!" and
the forebodings of his anxious friends, the safari in Africa was a success. For
eleven months he and his party traveled "rifle in hand over the empty, sun-
lit African wastes" experiencing, as he phrased it, "the joy of wandering
through lonely lands; the joy of hunting the mighty and terrible lords of the
wilderness, the cunning, the wary and the grim." Though he was not con-
ditioned to the tropical climate, he was ill for only five days during the entire
trip. He was watched wherever he went; his every move was recorded in the
press. "The people," Senator Lodge wrote to him, "follow the account of your
African wanderings as if it were a new Robinson Crusoe."

As soon as the expedition disbanded in Khartoum — it was in the middle of
March 1910 — Roosevelt became embroiled in the controversy over the British
rule in Egypt. Invited to address a native officers' club, he spoke with "unmis-
takable plainness as to their duty of absolute loyalty, and as to the ruin which
would come to both Egypt and the Sudan unless the power and prestige of
the English rule were kept undiminished." The speech embittered the Egyptian
Nationalists, struggling to lift the yoke of British imperialism.

Originally, he had planned to return home, but the demands for lectures
were so pressing that he could not avoid accepting some of the invitations.
Oxford University asked him to deliver the Romanes lecture; the Sorbonne in
Paris wanted him to give an address; Kaiser Wilhelm insisted that he should
speak in Germany. And Roosevelt himself felt that he should deliver an ad-
dress in Norway, giving his belated thanks for the Nobel Peace Prize. Invita-
tions poured in from the royal rulers of Europe. "I soon found," said he
in amusement, "that while the different rulers did not really care a rap about
seeing me, they did not like me to see other rulers and pass them by." And so
he set out for a grand tour of the continent.

It was a happy trip, the trip through Europe; the ex-President's unaffected
candor fascinated kings and commoners alike. "I thoroughly liked and re-
spected almost all the kings and queens I met," Roosevelt said. "They struck
me as serious people with charming manners, devoted to their people and
anxious to justify their own positions by the way they did their duty." But his

511

respect was mixed with a degree of pity for "the tedium, the dull, narrow rou-
tine of their lives/' which he felt forced them into the role of a "kind of subli-
mated American vice-president." In dealing with the immensely complex
questions of protocol at court functions, he insisted that his status as ex-President
entitled him to no special precedence whatever. "To me," he declared, "there
is something fine in the American theory that a private citizen can be chosen
by the people to occupy a position as great as that of the mightiest monarch
and to exercise a power which may surpass that of Czar, Kaiser, or Pope, and
that then, after having filled this position, the man shall leave it an unpensioned
private citizen, who goes back into the ranks of his fellow-citizens with entire
self-respect, claiming nothing save what on his own individual merits he is
entitled to receive."

Not everything went smoothly. Roosevelt was Roosevelt, and he loved a good
fight. Thus, in Rome he was embroiled in "an elegant row" with the Vatican.
The reason: Pope Pius X would not receive him without a promise that he
would not visit the American Methodist missionaries who talked of the Pope
as "the whore of Babylon." Though Roosevelt had no intention of visiting the
Methodists, he told the Vatican that he could not submit to "any conditions
which limit my freedom of conduct." He deplored the excessive zeal of the
Methodist missionaries, but he also rebuked Papal Secretary Merry del Val,
whom he described as a "furiously bigoted reactionary." By his actions he
showed the world "that I feared the most powerful Protestant Church just as
little as I feared the Roman Catholics."

From Italy the tour took him to Austria-Hungary, France, Belgium, Holland,
the Scandinavian countries, and finally to Germany. Everywhere he went he
attracted large crowds and intense curiosity; everywhere his attempts to explain
that an ex- President has no more authority than any other American citizen
were "greeted with polite but exasperating incredulity."

Particular interest focused on his visit to Germany, where Kaiser Wilhelm's
growing belligerence in the face of military encirclement was causing increas-
ing concern to the British and French. "The Germans," in Roosevelt's opinion,
"did not like me and did not like my country; and under the circumstances
they behaved entirely correctly, showing me every civility and making no pre-
tense of an enthusiasm that was not present." No cheering crowds followed him
about, as in other nations, but he was warmly received by the Kaiser, "an able
and powerful man," who asked how he was regarded in the United States.
Roosevelt told him: "In America we think that if you lived on our side of the
water you would carry your ward and turn up at the convention with your dele-
gation behind you — and I cannot say as much for most of your fellow sovereigns!"

The English greeted him with good-humored affection. His Romanes lecture
in Oxford, a treatise on the parallels between the evolution of animal life and
the evolution of civilization, was introduced by Lord Curzon, the chancellor
of the University. Curzon said that Roosevelt's "onslaughts on the wild beasts
of the desert have been not less fierce nor less successful than over the many-

512

headed hydra of corruption in his own land" — an encomium which the chan-
cellor topped off with this couplet:

Before whose coming comets took to flight

And all the Nile's seven mouths turned pale in fright.

As if to justify this tribute to his vigor, Roosevelt essayed to counsel the British
on empire management in a speech he delivered at the Guild Hall on being
made a Freeman of the city of London. England, he declared, should decide
whether it had a right to control Egypt or not. This speech created an uproar,
with Englishmen both attacking and defending him.

During his trip in Europe, King Edward VII of England died, and President
Taft asked Roosevelt to represent the United States at the funeral. Like most
royal funerals, it was a giant pageant more than an occasion of genuine grief,
and the ex- President made little effort to restrain his enormous amusement at
the studied posturings of the royal guests as they jostled for precedence and
vented their petty jealousies against one another. Years later at Sagamore Hill
he delighted friends and visitors with his anecdotes about how the domineering
Kaiser put the lesser monarchs through their paces and about the contempt
with which the better established kings and queens regarded the pathetic little
"bush league czars from the Balkans." By the time the funeral was over,
Roosevelt had had enough of royal pageants. "I felt," he said, "that if I met
another king I should bite him."

In early June it was time to go home. Letters had come by the thousands
from all parts of the country, asking him to address meetings or give lectures.
Taft had written as well — a letter of political sorrow. Roosevelt knew of Taft's
growing troubles with Congress and his growing troubles with the progressive
wing of the party. Now he learned about them from the President him-
self. And while Roosevelt was sailing toward America, a versifier in Life ex-
pressed the feelings of many a citizen:

Teddy come home and blow your horn,

The sheep's in the meadow, the cow's in the corn.

The boy you left to tend the sheep

Is under the haystack fast asleep.

As his ship, the Kaiserin Augusta Victoria, sailed into New York Harbor,
some 2500 dignitaries, Congressmen, Senators, and governors, were at hand
to greet him. The nation showed its affection by a spectacular demonstration.
A huge parade, with ex-Rough Riders as an honor guard, escorted him
up Broadway and Fifth Avenue between lines of cheering citizens. It was the
most fervent reception of his career.

With his return, press and public speculated about his future. What would
he do? They were curious to know: Would he back Taft or would he join the
insurgents?

513

OFF TO THE GREAT ADVENTURE. March 23, 1909, the day Theodore Roosevelt left
for Africa, was a great day in Hoboken, New Jersey. He was fifty years old, but as eager as a
young boy for adventure. The pier was dark with people— Rough Riders, political friends,
delegations of all kinds had come to shake his hand and bid him farewell. President Taft
sent Archie Butt, his military aide, with a bon voyage letter and gold ruler inscribed: "Theo-
dore Roosevelt from William Howard Taft. Good Bye— Good Luck— and a Safe Return."

THE LUGGAGE of the expedi-
tion contained a wide variety of
objects from rifles, maps, and
taxidermist equipment to boxes
of champagne and whisky.

The expedition's expenses, at
first estimated at $75,000, were
covered by the Smithsonian In-
stitution in Washington with
money donated by sponsors, An-
drew Carnegie heading the list.

Roosevelt signed up with Scrib-
ncr's Magazine to write articles on
his African experiences for
$50,000. When he heard about
this, King Edward of England
remarked: "President Roosevelt is
coming out as a penny-a-liner."

A DAVENPORT CARTOON

IN THE NEW TORK EVENING MAIL,

THE DAT ROOSEVELT SET OUT FOR AFRi

"HIST! SEE WHO'S COMING!"

FOR ELEVEN MONTHS Roosevelt went hunting
and searched for rare specimens of animals in the
jungles of Africa. In his articles for fyribner's and in
his subsequent book, African Game Trails, he left a
vivid description of those eleven months. His "list of
game shot with the rifle during the trip" added up
to 296 animals. Among these were 9 lions, 8 ele-
phants, 1 3 rhinoceroses, 7 hippopotami, 6 buffaloes,
15 zebras, and 28 gazelles. (Kermit's bag was 216.)
On the last day of February 1910 the expedition
began the return trip down the Nile. "We reached
Khartoum on the afternoon of March 14, 1910,"
wrote Roosevelt, "and Kermit and I parted from our
comrades of the trip with real regret; during the year
we spent together there had not been ajar, and my
respect and liking for them had grown steadily. More-
over, it was a sad parting from our faithful black fol-
lowers, whom we knew we should never see again."

WHAT ARE THEY DOING AT HOME?

A Cunningham cartoon in the Washington Herald.

516

THE FAMILY IS TOGETHER AGAIN. The Roosevclts, with their daughter Ethel,
inspect the well from which Slatin Pasha had to drink during his long imprisonment.
Rudolf Carl von Slatin, one of the most fabulous personalities in the Middle East, was
Roosevelt's host during his three days of sightseeing in Khartoum. An Austrian, he came
to the Sudan in 1879 at the instigation of the English Governor General Gordon. Soon he
became governor of Dara, then governor general of Darfur. In December 1883 hostile Arab
tribes captured him, and for eleven years they kept him as their prisoner. When he escaped
in 1900, he was named inspector general of the Sudan, remaining in this post until the out-
break of the First World War in 1914.

The Roosevelts were welcomed by Slatin Pasha "with more than mere friendly enthusi-
asm." They were entertained lavishly and they were shown around the country. Mrs.
Roosevelt, with Ethel, came to Khartoum to join her husband and her son Kermit. They
arrived on March 14, and it was a joyous reunion after such a long separation. During his
whole stay in Africa, Roosevelt was "dreadfully homesick" for his wife. To his friend Spring-
Rice he wrote: "Catch me ever leaving her again, if I can help it."

Now that Mrs. Roosevelt was at his side, his happiness was complete. He showed her
the desert, he made her ride on a camel, he took her on a sightseeing tour.

After he delivered two addresses praising the British rule in the Sudan, the party jour-
neyed to Wady Haifa and from there to Cairo where the "great adventure" came to an end.

517

THE PIGSKIP* LIBFCAJR.Y which Roosevelt carried
-with Him in an aluminum and oilcloth case weighed
less than sixty pounds. The books revealed his literary
interest, ranging from Momer to !N/Iacaulay and
Carlyle, from Shakespeare to Dante, ICeats, and
Browning, from Euripides to N£ark Twain, from The
Federalist papers to James Fenimore Cooper, Long-
fellow, Holmes, Poe and Tennyson.

In an appendix to His African Game Trails* Roose-
velt said of trie books: "They were for use, not orna-
ment. I almost always Had some volume witH me,
eitHer in my saddle-pocket or in tHe cartridge-bag
wHicH one of my gun-bearers carried to Hold odds and
ends. Often my reading would be done while resting
under a tree at noon, perhaps beside the carcass of a
beast I had killed, or else while waiting for camp to
be pitched; and in either case it might be impossible
to get water for -washing. In consequence the books
were stained with blood, sweat, gun oil, dust and
ashes; ordinary bindings eitHer vanished or became
loathsome, whereas pigskin merely grew to look as a
we 11 -used saddle looks."

. .

^ '• /.'. ''' ^ ''•?*'" ' ^"^-.i^

w&fe<-''' - ;'. '•": -'-' " x': ^' ' ^ .^X:*.Xrtr^ ^-

RIDE

THE

519

IN ROME

THE KING OF ITALY delighted Roosevelt. Inter-
ested in reading, big-game hunting, history, and
social progress, he talked Roosevelt's language. Vic-
tor Emmanuel III and Queen Helene "are loving
and faithful to each other . . . and it was good to see
their relations, together and with the children."

VISITING THE FORUM with Lawrence F. Abbott
(left), who acted during the European trip as Roose-
velt's secretary, and with Jesse B. Carter, Director of
Rome's American School of Classical Studies. At this
time Roosevelt had "an elegant row" with Merry del
Val, the Papal secretary, about the American Meth-
odist missionaries, one of whom had caused a furor
when he called the Pope "the whore of Babylon."

521

GIFFORD PINCHOT AT PORTO MAURIZIO,

where Roosevelt was staying in the villa of his sister-
in-law. Pinchot brought with him a sheaf of letters

"MAYBE MR. TAFT'S EAR DIDN'T TINGLE!"

read the caption of this Barclay cartoon in the Balti-
more Sun. The newspapers at home were filled with
stories of Gifford Pinchot Js meeting with Roosevelt in
Europe. Chief Forester Pinchot, who was Roosevelt's
planner in the conservation program, was dismissed
by Taft when he interfered in the controversy be-
tween Secretary of Interior Richard A. Ballinger and
Louis Glavis, chief of a field division in Alaska. Pin-
chot wrote a letter to Senator Dolliver in which he
upheld Glavis as the defender of the people's interests
and criticized the President for dismissing him. The
quarrel grew in intensity, and the issue became con-
servation versus the spoliation of natural resources.
President Taft hesitated to remove Pinchot— well
knowing how the action would affect Roosevelt — but
finally had to do it. Though Lodge warned against
an appearance of enmity toward Taft, Roosevelt
would not listen and allowed Pinchot to visit him.

from the progressives Albert J. Beveridge, Jona-
than P. Dolliver, and William Allen White, full
of complaints against President Taft and his policies.

A BRISK MORNING WALK

TU-.

523

TOURING THE CAPITALS OF EUROPE

IN PARIS, Roosevelt went sight-seeing, visited Napoleon's tomb, accompanied by the
Generals Niox, Feldman, and Dalstein and the Ambassadors Bacon and Jusserand. The
following day, on April 23, 1910, he delivered an address at the Sorbonne on "Citizenship
in a Republic," making appeal for moral rather than for intellectual or material greatness.

REVIEWING FRENCH TROOPS

Jusserand, the French ambassador to the
United States, persuaded Roosevelt to re-
view some troops, otherwise the people
might feel that he "did not take her mili-
tary power seriously, nor deem her sol-
diers worth seeing." So off he went to
Vincennes to see a sham battle "in the
usual dreadful dress of the Visiting states-
men' with frock coat and top hat." When
the colonel of the French cavalry regiment
suggested that he might like to mount a
horse, Roosevelt was delighted at the
suggestion. All he asked was to have a
pair of leggings, which were duly pro-
duced. At the end of the review he was
heartily complimented by the troops, who
were "very much pleased at my riding."

524

IN BERLIN, on May 12, the German Emperor, with the Empress and several members of
the imperial family, came to the University of Berlin to attend Roosevelt's lecture on "The
World Movement," a long and dull discourse on the growth of civilization. The Kaiser
seemed to like it, however, "nodding his head or smiling now and then with approval."

ROOSEVELT ARRIVES at the

University of Berlin. Until the morn-
ing of the lecture it was not certain
whether he would be able to deliver
the address. For days he had a
severe attack of bronchitis, and the
physicians were not sure whether he
"could use his voice for one hour in
safety." Arrangements were made to
have someone else read the address
if it were found necessary at the last
moment. But Roosevelt recovered
in time, his vocal cords so well fixed
up that when he began to speak,
"his eyes directly on the Kaiser," his
voice— according to Count Billow,
who was in the audience— sounded
"unusually loud and piercing."

525

AT GERMAN MANEUVERS

%ZoZ~z^o*

FOR FIVE HOURS the Kaiser and Roosevelt
conversed. Roosevelt told the Emperor of Andrew
Carnegie's suggestion to create a council of nations
which could end Europe's dangerous armaments
race and assure the settlement of international

526

conflicts by arbitration rather than by guns.
Next day the Kaiser sent Roosevelt the above set
of photographs "with really amusing comments of
his own pencilled on the back of them." They are
published here for the first time in facsimile.

KING EDWARD'S FUNERAL

On May 6, 1910, King Edward
of England died, and President
Taft asked Roosevelt to represent
him at the King's funeral.

On May 19— the eve of the
funeral — he attended the state
banquet at Buckingham Palace
with eight monarchs present.
Roosevelt enjoyed himself im-
mensely. At one side of the table
sat King George of England; at
the other, Emperor Wilhelm of
Germany. As the dinner began,
the face of everyone at the table
was "wreathed and distorted with
grief," but soon they had forgotten
why they had come together.
After his return to America, Roo-
sevelt told President Taft: "I have
never attended a more hilarious
banquet in my life. I never saw
quite so many knights." The King
of Greece "fairly wept out his
troubles to me," and King Alfonso
of Spain confided "that he did not
like anarchists, but as much as he
hated anarchists, he hated the
clericals more."

Roosevelt was amused by court
etiquette. Caring little where his
place was in the procession, he
found it funny when the special
ambassador from France com-
plained that the Chinese were
riding in front of him. Though
Roosevelt told him "I did not
care where they put me," the
Frenchman could not be calmed.
"With tears in his eyes, tears of
anger," he approached Roosevelt,
asking him whether he had no-
ticed "that the other guests had
scarlet livery and that ours was
black. I told him I had not no-
ticed, but I would not have cared
if ours had been yellow and
green. My French, while fluent,
is never very clear, and it took
me another half hour to get
it out of his mind that I was not
protesting because my livery
was not green and yellow."

528

IN LONDON

A CARTOON IN PUNCH at the time Rooseveh
visited London. In it the lions at Trafalgar Square
were wearing signs "Not to be shot,'* and were
guarded by policemen. Roosevelt loved the joke.

SPEAKING AT THE GUILDHALL on May 31 on

the occasion of his election as a Freeman of the City of
London, he told the distinguished audience that he
would not make an "extended address of mere thanks,"
but that he preferred to speak "on matters of real
concern to you."

Taking as his topic "The British Rule in Africa,"
he told his listeners that "the present condition of
affairs is a grave menace to both your Empire and
the entire civilized world ... if you do not wish to
establish and keep order there ... get out of Egypt"

531

AT OXFORD, JUNE 7, 1910, Roosevelt delivered
the Romanes Lecture in the Sheldonian Theater on
"Biological Analogies in History," one of his most
profound and carefully prepared addresses. He
showed the draft of it to his friend Henry Fairfield
Osborn, who later recalled that he had blue-penciled
some sentences. "I have left out certain passages that
arc likely to bring on war between the United States
and the governments referred to."

After Roosevelt's speech the Archbishop of York
said: "In the way of grading which we have at Ox-
ford, we agreed to mark the lecture 'Beta Minus/
but the lecturer * Alpha Plus.' While we felt that the
lecture was not a very great contribution to science,
we were sure that the lecturer was a very great man."
*

AT CAMBRIDGE, MAY 26, 1910, Roosevelt spoke
to the undergraduates — after being elected an honor-
ary member of the literary and debating society — on
"The Condition of Success." "If a man lives a decent
life," he said, "and does his work fairly and squarely
so that those dependent on him and attached to him
are better for his having lived, then he is a success . . ."

A CHARMING INCIDENT at Cambridge. Roose-
velt said that the students greeted him "as the
students of our own colleges would have greeted me."
He recalled: "On my arrival they had formed in two
long ranks, leaving a pathway for me to walk between
them, and at the final turn in this pathway they had

a Teddy Bear seated on the pavement with out-
stretched paw to greet me; and when I was given my
degree in the chapel the students had rigged a kind of
pulley arrangement by which they tried to let down
a very large Teddy Bear upon me as I took the degree
— I was told that when Kitchener was given his

degree they let down a Mahdi upon him, and a mon-
key on Darwin under similar circumstances. I spoke
in the Union to the students, and it was exactly and
precisely as if I had been speaking to the Harvard
students in the Harvard Union. ... I was inter-
ested to find that there was such exact similarity."

533

HOME AT LAST. Friends, politicians, newspapermen met the Kaiserin Augusta Victoria on
a tender to greet Roosevelt as the liner dropped anchor off quarantine on June 18, 1910.
It was a rousing welcome he received — the crowd was extremely happy to have him back.

JOURNEY'S END

The Roosevelts descend the gang-
plank. "I have been away a year
and a quarter . . . and I have seen
strange and interesting things,"
he told the press. "I am more glad
than I can say to be back in my
own country, back among the
people I love." He had forgotten
that only a few weeks before he
had written Cabot Lodge: "Ugh!
I do dread getting back to Amer-
ica, and having to plunge into
this cauldron of politics."

He further said: "I want to
close up like a native oyster. . . .
I have nothing to say." This state-
ment only amused the reporters;
they were sure they knew better.

534

UNCLE SAM: "I CANT SEE HIM, BUT I THINK I CAN HEAR HIM!"

This Donahey cartoon— especially the caption beneath it — tickled the funny bone of America.
It was "bully" to have him back again; life had not been the same while he was away

535

RETURN FROM EUROPE. When Roosevelt
returned from his European trip, his devotion to
Taft was still strong. The President had sent a long
and pathetic letter which reached Roosevelt in
Southampton. "I do not know," Taft wrote, "that I
have had harder luck than other Presidents, but I do
know that thus far I have succeeded far less than
have others. I have been conscientiously trying to
carry out your policies, but my method of doing so
has not worked smoothly."

He reviewed his accomplishments. He believed
that his tariff bill was a good one, he felt that the tax
on corporations was useful, he was pleased that
within a short time Arizona and New Mexico would
become states of the Union. He proudly reported
that the chief conservation measure would become
law, as would the postal savings bill.

Roosevelt reassured his friend: "I shall make no

speeches or say anything for two months, but I shall

keep my mind open as I keep my mouth shut." It

was a fine promise — but within days it was forgotten.

A YOUNG MAN watches the adulation of his wife's
uncle. Nobody cares about him as he leans against
the funnel of the boat. He is just one of the many
members of the welcoming group. But in the span of
a generation he will be the figure in the center of
the stage. His name: Franklin Delano Roosevelt.

WELCOME HOME! Members of the family and
friends gathered around the Roosevelts after they
left the ocean liner and made their way on the reve-
nue cutter to the Battery. Mrs. Roosevelt is surrounded

536

by the group of ladies at the left. In the center, the
bearded figure in top hat and with his hand on the
railing is Henry Cabot Lodge, faithful friend and
adviser* On the right, standing before the funnel, is

Franklin D, Roosevelt, the young man whose destiny
so closely paralleled that of Theodore, even then
being Assistant Secretary of the Navy. On his left is
his wife, Eleanor, the niece of Theodore Roosevelt.

537

FIFTH A VENUE GREETS ITS BELOVED SON

NEW YORK'S WELCOME

"COME TO MY ARMS, MY BEAMISH BOY!"

A cartoon by C. R. Macauley in the New York World
expressed America's feeling toward the homecomer.

TITLE PAGE OF HARPER'S WEEKLY

539

CHAPTER XXXVIII

FRIENDS
TURN INTO ENEMIES

"It is now a year and three months since I assumed office and I have had a
hard time — I do not know that I have had harder luck than other Presidents,
but I do know that thus far I have succeeded far less than have others. I have
been conscientiously trying to carry out your policies but my method of doing
so has not worked smoothly." This was Taft, writing to Roosevelt in London.

Roosevelt was well aware of the stress and strain within the Republican
ranks. He had seen Gifford Pinchot in Italy, he had spoken with Elihu Root,
and he had received many messages from insurgent Republicans. Their de-
scriptions of the political picture were dark. "Ugh! I do dread getting back to
America, and having to plunge into this cauldron of politics," he wrote to
Cabot Lodge from Norway. "Our own party leaders did not realize that I was
able to hold the Republican party in power only because I insisted on a steady
advance, and dragged them along with me. Now the advance has been stopped,
and whether we blame the people on the one side, or the leaders on the other,
the fact remains that we are in a very uncomfortable position."

Replying to Taft's letter from London, Roosevelt told the President that he
was "much concerned about some of the things I see and am told; but what I
have felt it best to do was to say absolutely nothing — and indeed to keep my
mind as open as I kept my mouth shut!" These same sentiments he repeated
after his arrival in New York, promising to "close up- like a native oyster."

But how could he remain silent when all he heard was that the party organi-
zation was falling apart at the seams? How could he remain silent when he
saw that the progressives who had comprised his most devoted supporters
were forced into opposition by the President? How could he remain silent
when he saw that on the vital political issues of the day — tariff, conservation,
railroad regulation — his party was sorely divided?

He was disappointed in Taft, the man whom he had chosen to continue his
policies. Only ten days after he set foot in America, he wrote to Gifford Pin-
chot that "in all probability Taft has passed his nadir. He is evidently a man
who takes color from his surroundings. He was an excellent man under me,
and close to me. For eighteen months after his election he was a rather pitiful
failure, because he had no real strong man on whom to lean, and yielded to
the advice of his wife, his brother Charley, the different corporation lawyers
who had his ear, and various similar men."

He was aware that Taft's intentions were good, but he also realized that the

VERTONE WANTS TO

UA iTV JJ7C UA A/TIC_

President had neither the drive nor the aggressiveness to translate the good
intentions into good politics. Amiable, stolid, honest, Taft would have made
a passable Chief Executive if only Theodore Roosevelt had not been his
predecessor. To follow a flamboyant, colorful man and be successful is always
difficult; to follow a Roosevelt in the presidential chair and be successful was
impossible. Elihu Root put his finger on it when he said that changing from
Roosevelt to Taft was like changing from an automobile back to a horse-cab.

Taft was no master in the art of politics, and he bungled into controversies
which another, shrewder man would have avoided. He threw his support
behind "Uncle Joe" Cannon, the ultra-conservative Speaker of the House
(against whose dictatorial powers the progressives rebelled), though he had no
more sympathy for Cannon's autocratic methods than Roosevelt had when he
was President. He praised the Payne-Aldrich tariff bill (which the progressives
in the party fought violently) as "the best tariff bill that the Republican party
has ever passed." And when the storm broke over the remark, he retracted it
by saying that "the comparative would have been a better description than
the superlative." He appeared to be — especially during the Ballinger-Pinchot
controversy — a foe of conservation, which he was not. "Taft, who is such an
admirable fellow, has shown himself such an utterly commonplace leader,"
wrote Roosevelt in August to his English friend Arthur Hamilton Lee, "good
natured; feebly well-meaning, but with plenty of small motive, and totally
unable to grasp or put into execution any really great policy."

The party was in a turmoil. The progressives were weary of the President
and the men around him, and Taft was convinced that the real purpose of the
progressives was to wreck his administration and defeat him in 1912. The
schism between the two wings grew. In the primaries of 1910 the regular
Republicans suffered one defeat after the other. with the progressives winning
almost every contest.

Roosevelt was in an unhappy mood. It was not hard to see that the fight
within the Republican ranks would help the Democrats to victory in the mid-
term election. Thus, he felt that he must throw himself into the campaign and
unify the two wings that were pulling in opposite directions.

After an unsuccessful attempt in New York State, where he endorsed the
direct primary and was compelled to fight the old Republican wheelhorses on
the floor of the state convention to win the chairmanship, he left for a speak-
ing tour. His special train covered some 5000 miles in 1 6 states, and wherever
he went, he was greeted with enthusiasm. He would not permit the Repub-
lican National Committee to sponsor his trip. "My speeches on the trip will
represent myself entirely, nobody else," he told reporters.

As he journeyed through the Middle West his speeches echoed progressive
principles; the conservatives got little comfort from them. It was at Osawa-
tomie, Kansas, that he enunciated the doctrine of the New Nationalism and
uttered the sentence which chilled the spines of all standpatters. He said, "The
man who wrongly holds that every human right is secondary to his profit must
now give way to the advocate of human welfare, who rightly maintains that
every man holds his property subject to the general right of the community to

542

regulate its use to whatever degree the public welfare may require it." For this
the New York Post denounced him as "the most radical man in public life in

our time."

Having gained the support of the progressives in the West, he returned east,
where he sought to convince the regular Republicans that it was in their best
interest to work together with the progressives. In speech after speech he came
out for moderate regulars and for moderate progressives. But when the elec-
tion returns were in, they showed that the strategy had not worked — the
country repudiated the divided Republican party. The Democrats won with
a large majority in the House of Representatives, and they won in New York
State, defeating Roosevelt's hand-picked candidate for the governorship.

Never before had Roosevelt suffered such political defeat. Disconsolate in
heart and dejected in spirit, he looked toward the future with gloom.

He buried himself in Sagamore Hill, trying to keep out of the limelight. He
would not accept any invitations to give speeches. He would not allow him-
self to be drawn publicly into the increasingly violent controversy between
progressives and standpatters. On the surface he was still friendly toward Taft,
but the warmth of their relationship was gone. They were not seeing each other,
and their correspondence had ceased. Taft could not understand Roosevelt's
behavior. "I don't know what he is driving at except to make my way more
difficult," he said to Archie Butt after Roosevelt, in The Outlook, attacked his
arbitration proposals. And he bemoaned the fact of a "devoted friendship
going to pieces like a rope of sand." More and more the two former friends
drifted apart, their mounting antagonism fostered not only by political but by
personal issues. Members of their families, political friends and foes, news-
paper writers, Washington gossips, all contributed their part in widening the
rift between them until it became an unbridgeable gulf.

The last ties were severed on the very day Roosevelt became fifty-three
years old. On that day — October 27, 1911 — the Taft administration brought
an anti-trust suit against the U. S. Steel Corporation, an action which charged
— among other things — that Roosevelt had been misled during the 1907 panic
when he allowed U. S. Steel to purchase the Tennessee Coal and Iron Com-
pany. Roosevelt was hurt to the quick. He wrote an article in The Outlook, casti-
gating the administration and revealing Taft's part in the affair. "The Trust,
the People, and the Square Deal," as the article was called, focused the coun-
try's attention on him. Rooseveltians of every variety, from ex-Rough Riders
to senators, converged on Sagamore Hill, urging him to become a candidate.
"I do not want to be President again," said their hero. "I am not a candidate,
I have not the slightest idea of becoming a candidate." But to his friend Bishop
he confessed: "Taft is utterly hopeless. I think he would be beaten if nomi-
nated, but in any event it would be a misfortune to have him in the Presidential
chair for another term, for he has shown himself an entirely unfit President."

And as he groped for a decision, all America was asking the same question,
the one which the New York American put succinctly: "T. R.: R U or R U not?"

543

STANDPATTERS

NELSON ALDRICH

(1841-1915), son-in-law
of Rockefeller, repre-
sented R. I. in the Sen-
ate from 1881 to 1911.

HENRY C. LODGE

(1850-1924), a close
friend of Roosevelt from
young manhood. Mass.
Senator 1893 to 1924.

REED SMOOT

(1862-1941), prominent
member of the Mormon
sect, was a Senator from
Utah from 1903 to 1933.

EUGENE HALE

(1836-1918) served as
Maine's Senator from
1881 to 1911, for a rec-
ord thirty-year term.

JOHN KEAN

(1852-1914), a Senator
from New Jersey 1899 to
1911, and a personal
friend of President Taft.

WELDON HEYBURN

(1852-1912), a Senator
from Idaho from 1903
until death, helped frame
his stdtc's constitution.

THE PROGRESSIVE REVOLT

Between Abraham Lincoln in 1861 and Theodore
Roosevelt in 1901, the country, with the exception
of the Democrat Grover Cleveland, had elected only
Republicans for the high office. They were weak men
with no ability for leadership. During these forty
years the real power was not in their hands, but in
the hands of big industrialists, big bankers, and big
businessmen. Men like John D. Rockefeller, Andrew
Carnegie, J. Pierpont Morgan, William H. Vander-
bilt, James J. Hill wielded more political influence
than any of the Presidents.

It was during these decades that the philosophy
of the Republican party underwent a radical change.
Gone were the days of the reform Republicanism
and idealism of Lincoln; during these years the poli-
cies of the party became based on a materialistic
concept. In the Senate the interests of the large indus-
tries and combines — of oil, sugar, petroleum, cotton
— were well taken care of. And while a chosen few
amassed fortunes, the people who created the wealth
had to be content with starvation wages.

The greatest sufferers in this era of abundance
were the farmers. Prices for agricultural products

CAUSES FOR THE REPUBLICAN SPLIT:

President Taft praised the conservative Payne-
Aldrich tariff bill, declaring in a speech at Winona,
Minnesota, that it was "the best tariff that has been
passed at all." His remarks caused an uproar in
the Middle West. Progressive Republican Senators
and Representatives from that area, thoroughly
aroused by the high tariff provisions of the bill, bitterly
criticized the President and assailed "Aldrichism."

544

were low, mortgage money was high. The situation
cried for a remedy, and when such remedy was not
forthcoming, farmers and workers in the Middle
West banded together and allied themselves under
the Populist banner. The people demanded reform,
they cried for justice. But Congress — under the domi-
nant influence of conservative politicians — blocked
all reform legislation.

When Roosevelt — who sympathized with many of
the progressive proposals — left the White House in
1909, his party was already divided and was grow-
ing rapidly toward a schism. President Taft's inept-
ness hastened this political split. His handling of the
tariff issue, his support of Speaker Cannon — who
omitted most of the progressives from permanent
committees in the House — his dismissal of Gifford
Pinchot, enraged the progressives. "Taft is a damn,
pig-headed blunderer," said a Middle Western pub-
lisher to Roosevelt. The dissatisfaction with the
President and his policies grew.

At the time of Roosevelt's return from Europe,
the battle lines were already clearly drawn. The con-
servative standpatters rallied behind Taft, and the
progressives looked upon Roosevelt as their man.

INSURGENTS

CAUSES FOR THE REPUBLICAN SPLIT:

President Taft sided with the conservative wing of his
party, who supported Joseph Cannon, the Speaker
of the House, while the progressives were determined
to shear "Uncle Joe" of his extraordinary political
powers. On March 16, 1910, George W. Morris of
Nebraska offered a resolution calling for a Rules
Committee on which the Speaker would not sit.
After a heated debate the progressives won their case.

R. LA FOLLETTE

(1855-1925), twice gov-
ernor of Wisconsin, en-
tered the Senate in 1906
and served until 1925.

J. DOLLIVER

(1858-1910), Iowa Sen-
ator from 1900 to 1910,
one of the outspoken
antagonists of Aldrich.

ALBERT BEVERIDGE

(1862-1927), an Indiana
Senator 1899-1911 and
outstanding biographer
of Marshall and Lincoln.

JOSEPH BRISTOW

(1861-1944), Kansas
Senator 1909 to 1915,
newspaper owner, Pan-
ama R.R. commissioner.

ALBERT CUMMINS

(1850-1926), Iowa Sen-
ator 1 908- 1 926 and dele-
gate to every Republican
convention for 46 years.

MOSES E. CLAPP

(1851-1931), Senator
from Minnesota 1901 to
1917, called by Taft "an
unstable light weight."

545

"THEODORE, THINGS HAVENT BEEN THE SAME!" weeps the battered, emaciated
Republican mascot in this Cleveland Plain Dealer cartoon, printed the day he returned.

TAFT'S DIFFICULTIES: the tariff. Here he pleads TAFT'S ACHIEVEMENTS: his "four little
with Senator Aldrich for a more equitable tariff bill, bills." He points at them with great pride.

546

"I'VE GOT TO SEE HIM!" After Roosevelt's return, all the insurgent Republicans who
were fighting President Taft and his policies flocked to Sagamore Hill to unburden their
hearts and ask for advice. Within four days after his arrival Roosevelt had forgotten his
promise to keep his ears open but remain silent. In the New York Times of June 23 he said
that all who were opposed to the direct primary in New York were eligible to the Ananias
Club, which "already has a big waiting list." Thus he was back in the "cauldron of politics."

547

SPECULATION ABOUT THE FUTURE

WHAT TO DO? A month after Roosevelt's return from Europe, Harper's Weekly published
this J. Campbell Gory cartoon, which correctly expressed the feeling of the country and put
the finger on Roosevelt's predicament. The lion in the drawing asks: "I wish I knew what
you are going to do with me," and Roosevelt replies: "So do I."

Roosevelt was at a crossroads of his life. Fifty -one years old, full of ambition and a
driving temperament, he had no office, no political power, and little to do. After eight bully
years in the Presidency and after one year of hunting, exploring, lecturing, and mingling with
royalty, private life seemed not only tasteless but unbearable. The question was: what next?

TO OYSTER BAY

All those Republicans who were
against Taft's policies rushed to
see Roosevelt, pouring out their
hearts to the attentively listening
Colonel. Senator La Follette of
Wisconsin, Senator Beveridge of
Indiana, two of Taft's staunchest
enemies, were among the early
visitors. President Taft, seeing
Roosevelt's guest list in the
newspapers, cried out: "If I
only knew what the President
wanted!" typically referring
to Roosevelt as the President.

548

CARTOONS BY C. R. MACAULEY IN THE NEW YORK WORLD DURING 1910

JUNE 20, 1910: "I want to close up . . ."

JULY 9, 1910: The Bronco Buster.

SEPTEMBER 24, 1910: The Colonel's baggage.

SEPTEMBER 26, 1910: Personal property.

JUMPING INTO LOCAL POLITICS. In his first speech on American soil Roosevelt
promised to remain silent for sixty days and not to take sides in the political battles then
raging between President Taft and the Republican insurgents. "I want to close up like a
native oyster," he said. But barely four days had passed before the pledge was fprgotten.
He plunged into the battle over the controversial direct primary bill in New York, which
was defeated by the Republican bosses. Undaunted, Roosevelt kept on with his fight. In
the Saratoga State Convention he scored a victory by forcing through the gubernatorial
nomination for Henry L. Stimson, but in the ensuing election his hand-picked candidate
was squarely beaten. Roosevelt said of this repudiation at the polls: "I think that the
American people feel a little tired of me, a feeling with which I cordially sympathize."

549

550

GOING UP

In St. Louis, Roosevelt took his
first airplane ride with aviator

CAMPAIGNING AGAINST HEAVY ODDS. In August 1910, with a strong tide surging
against the Republicans, Roosevelt set out on a tour to turn the voters' sentiments. When
asked whether he would speak on behalf of his party, he said: "My speeches on the trip
will represent myself entirely, nobody else." He tried to take the middle of the road,
trying to influence standpatters and insurgents alike. He went as far as he could in
praising Taft's policies. Then— at Osawatomie, Kansas— he made a radical address which
at one blow alienated all standpatters. In his speech Roosevelt advocated a New Nationalism,
a creed to put "the national need before sectional or personal advantage." He pleaded
for freeing the government "from the sinister influence of control of special interests," de-
manded the supervision of the capitalization of the railroads and other interstate business
corporations, asked for an expert tariff commission — free of political influence, for the im-
position of graduated income and inheritance taxes, for improved labor conditions, for aid
to the farming classes, for conservation of natural resources. It was a revolutionary program
indeed, its ideas adopted in part from those of William Jennings Bryan and La Follette.

551

ON OCTOBER 13, 1910, ROOSEVELT SPOKE IN INDIANAPOLIS ON BEHALF OF

"DEE-LIGHTED" says the sorely battered and
much patched-up Roosevelt after the decisive Re-
publican defeat in the midterm election of 1910.

"FRAZZLED" says the caption, alluding to Roose-
velt's boast before he left for the Saratoga conven-
tion that he would beat the bosses to a "frazzle."

THE MIDTERM ELECTION ended disastrously for the Republican party. In the House
of Representatives there was an overwhelming Democratic majority, with 228 Democrats
facing 162 Republicans. In the Senate the Republicans lost ten seats. Twenty-six states
elected Democratic governors. The electorate repudiated both the standpatters and the in-
surgents. The Republicans were in a bad way. For Roosevelt it was a personal defeat. His
candidate for the New York governorship lost the election, even though everyone realized
that a vote for Henry L. Stimson was a vote for Theodore Roosevelt as President in 1912.
Political observers believed that the crushing defeat would finish his political career.

552

THE INSURGENT SENATOR ALBERT BEVERIDGE, A FOE OF PRESIDENT TAFT.

THE VICTORIOUS DEMOCRATIC DONKEY: "And don't forget there's another one
coming to you two years from now." (Cartoon by Kemble in Harper's Weekly, Nov. 19, 1910.)

553

CHAPTER XXXIX

THE BULL MOOSE
CAMPAIGN

As the presidential year of 1912 dawned, the Republican party was in a sad
state of disorder — "a house divided against itself." The conservative wing,
controlling the party machinery, supported the renomination of President
Taft, while the insurgents, rallied in the National Progressive League, were
for Senator Robert La Follette of Wisconsin. Though officially behind La
Follette, they were eagerly searching for a more popular figure who would be
able to command the support of the eastern states and who would be strong
enough to beat Taft in the convention. There was only one such person —
Theodore Roosevelt.

Roosevelt knew that La Follette had no strong support outside the Middle
West. He knew that Taft would have no difficulty to beat La Follette in the
convention. But he also knew that with Taft as a candidate, the Republicans
would lose the election. Thus, late in 1911 he approved a plan which allowed
his progressive supporters to campaign in Ohio against Taft but not for the
candidacy of La Follette.

A few weeks later, on February 2, 1912, the La Follette bandwagon came
to a final halt in Philadelphia. On that evening the sick La Follette addressed
a meeting of periodical publishers. For three hours he ranted, his speech at
times incoherent, and when he sat down it was evident that he could no
longer be a candidate.

The cry for Roosevelt gained momentum. Most of La Follette's supporters
were in his corner. The pressure on him to accept the candidacy was intense,
though many of his friends advised caution and suggested waiting until 1916,
when the Presidency could certainly be his. Roosevelt, thoroughly bitten
by the presidential bug, had no patience. The time to set a setting hen was
when the hen wanted to set.

Already before the collapse of La Follette in Philadelphia, he was in the race.
On January 12 he hit upon the idea of introducing himself as a candidate in
a reply to the progressive governors who had invited him to run. But then he
postponed the announcement.

On Washington's Birthday he addressed the Ohio Legislature in Columbus.
Most of what he said was moderate in tone, yet the passage about the democ-
ratization of the judiciary wrecked all his good intentions, alienating with one
stroke the conservative wing and estranging the big business and industrial
interests. Republican newspapers referred to the speech, which Roosevelt
called "A Charter of Democracy," as "A Charter of Demagogy."

555
iE GRABS THE CENTER OF THE STAGE; JJJ

rAFT IS SQUEEZED TO THE SHADOWS

On the way from Columbus, Roosevelt told a newspaperman: "My hat is
in the ring. The fight is on and I am stripped to the buff." And within a few
days he answered the petition of the seven progressive governors: "I will
accept the nomination for President if it is tendered to me and I will adhere
to this decision until the convention has expressed its preference." He was now
an active candidate, ready to wrest the nomination from Taft.

The President in the White House lost his calm. In his Lincoln Day speech
(Roosevelt was not yet a pronounced candidate) he lashed out against the
men who "are seeking to pull down the pillars of the temple of freedom and
representative government," cast scorn on the doctrine of the recall of the
judiciary, and charged that those who urged such changes were "political
emotionalists or neurotics." No one could misunderstand such words. They
were directed against his former friend, the man who had made him President.

On April 25 the President went to Massachusetts and, goaded by Roosevelt's
relentless attacks on the administration, he for the first time struck at his
former friend by name. He charged that the ex- President had violated his
promise to the American people not to run for the Presidency again. "That
promise and his treatment," declared Taft, "only throw an informing light on
the value that ought to be attached to any promise of this kind that he may
make for the future." He said that his attacks on Roosevelt were made with
reluctance. "This wrenches my soul," he declared. But there seemed no other
way. "I am here to reply to an old and dear friend of mine, Theodore Roose-
velt, who has made many charges against me. I deny those charges. I deny all
of them. I do not want to fight Theodore Roosevelt, but then sometimes a man
in a corner fights. I am going to fight."

A day after the attack Roosevelt replied in Worcester to Taft's accusa-
tion. Urged on by a wildly partisan audience, he put aside his prepared speech
and attacked Taft with unprecedented violence. He accused the President of
deliberately misrepresenting him, and said that Taft "has not merely in
thought, word and deed been disloyal to our past friendship, but has been dis-
loyal to every common or ordinary decency and fair dealings such as should
obtain even in dealing with a man's bitterest opponents."

The two men were now enemies. The aroused Taft went onto the stump,
vigorously defending his policies. "I don't want to fight," he repeated at meet-
ing after meeting. "But when I do fight I want to hit hard. Even a rat in a
corner will fight."

What followed was a titanic battle, a vitriolic verbal brawl between two
who had expressed the most unqualified respect and admiration for each other
a few years earlier. Across the nation the reverberation of their accusations
cut across ties of blood, family, friendship, as well as of party. Republicans
turned against Republicans with more feeling than they turned against Demo-
crats. Public passions were running high; accusations flew wildly. It was
rumored that Roosevelt had gone mad, and that if he could seize the Presi-
dency, he would make it a hereditary office. "Unless he breaks down under
the strain and is taken to a lunatic asylum," warned the Louisville Courier-
Journal, "there can be in his name and person but one issue, life tenure in the
executive office."

556

Roosevelt realized that he could secure the nomination only through direct
primaries, in which delegates to the national convention would be chosen by
the party rank and file at the polls rather than by the Republican politicians
in state conventions. Therefore he launched a vigorous campaign to achieve
that end. He won over six state legislatures; and where direct primaries were
adopted, he became the favorite by considerable margins. But in all other
states which retained the old convention system, Taft had the superiority.

Twelve days before the opening of the convention in Chicago, the Repub-
lican National Committee reviewed the credentials of the Roosevelt and the
Taft delegates. Roosevelt, from Sagamore Hill, kept in touch with his man-
agers by long-distance telephone and a private telegraph wire. The committee
— firmly in the hands of Taft supporters — ruled for the Taft delegates, a ruling
which Roosevelt denounced as "a fraud, as vulgar, as brazen, and as cynically
open as any ever committed by the Tweed regime in New York forty years ago."

He left for Chicago, and on his arrival declared: "It is a naked fight
against theft, and the thieves will not win." Talking to an audience of his
supporters the following night, he delivered a most moving address. He told
them that the progressive cause should not be allowed to die, despite "the foul
victory for which our opponents hope," and appealed to them to fight with
him for the right. "We stand at Armageddon, and we battle for the Lord,"
were his final words.

All such exhortations were of no avail. The Taft men knew what they
wanted; they were determined to keep the nomination for their candidate. Of
the 254 contested seats, the Credentials Committee of the convention awarded
no less than 235 to the President's delegates. Thus Taft won with 561 votes
against 107 for Roosevelt and 41 for La Follette. Still, 344 delegates refrained
from voting, 344 men would not back the regular candidate of the party. This
doomed Republican success in November. "The only question now," said
Chauncey Depew as he waited for Roosevelt's candidacy on a third-party
ticket, "is which corpse gets the most flowers."

With Taft chosen as the candidate of the convention, the Roosevelt dele-
gates repaired to another hall. There Roosevelt vowed to make the fight and
run as a candidate on an independent ticket. The party split which so
many thoughtful Republicans feared, became a reality — Taft and the regulars
were on one side, Roosevelt and the progressives on the other. It was without
doubt that the Democratic candidate, Woodrow Wilson, the reform governor
of New Jersey, would benefit by the Republican dissension and be elected
President of the United States. On election day Wilson polled 6,286,124 votes
against Roosevelt's 4,126,000 and Taft's 3,483,922. The Republican party was
in shambles, the progressive hopes broken. Roosevelt, accepting the outcome
of the election "with entire good humor and contentment," said: "The fight is
over. We are beaten. There is only one thing to do and that is to go back to
the Republican party. You can't hold a party like the Progressive party
together. . . . There are no loaves and fishes."

557

BACK TO WORK
AS EDITOR

COPY
BOY!

"RESTING." A cartoon by Phil Porter in the Boston
Traveler depicts Theodore Roosevelt in 1911, when
he was out of the political arena. During this period
he did literary work and was contributing editor of
The Outlook, writing articles for that magazine.

A CHARACTERISTIC GESTURE during his
Decoration Day speech at Grant's tomb in New York
on May 30, 1911. In his address Roosevelt spoke
against "mollycoddles" and "unrighteous peace,"
meaning the Taft-proposed arbitration treaties with
France and England. Taft had suggested that "all
questions determinable by the principles of law and
equity" were to be submitted to the Hague Tribunal.
And though Roosevelt would accept a treaty with
England, he would not commit himself with France,
giving as the reason that while Britain would never
commit an offense which could not be adjudicated,
France might. In this way he assailed publicly —
and for the first time openly — his successor's policies.

558

E. W. KEMBLE'S ATTACKS ON ROOSEVELT IN HARPER'S WEEKLY

MAY 25, 1912: WHICH WILL WIN?

MARCH 30, 1912: HAVING A BULLY TIM]

THE RIFT BETWEEN ROOSEVELT AND TAFT was based not only on political
issues, but on the personalities of the two men.

When Roosevelt was President, he was the giver and Taft the receiver. The tables turned
when Taft became President, and Roosevelt had hot the talent to play the part of a receiver.
Mark Sullivan, who knew 'him well, said: "Only incredible self-restraint and humility,
especially on the part of Roosevelt, could have averted a clash." Of this, Roosevelt was
incapable.

The growing enmity began with political matters. Roosevelt was hurt that Taft would
not keep his appointees— James Garfield, Luke Wright, Henry White — although he had
promised to do so. Roosevelt was pained that Taft dismissed Gilford Pinchot, his adviser on
conservation. Roosevelt was puzzled that Taft was so pleased with the Payne-Aldrich tariff
and that he supported the conservative Speaker Uncle Joe Cannon against the Progressives.
Roosevelt was peeved that Taft was under the thumb of the standpatters.

The rift was widened by personal issues. Taft's ambitious wife fanned the flame of dis-
content against the Roosevelts. In the newspaper of Taft's half-brother, the policies of
Roosevelt were frequently criticized. On the other hand, Alice Roosevelt thought it great
fun to mimic Mrs. laft, sending the President's wife into a dither.

In 1911, Roosevelt was at a crossroads of his career. He felt that his political leadership
was at an end, and he tried to keep silent— one of the hardest of tasks for a man like him.

560

JUNE 1, 1912: DOWN WITH THE BOSSES

MARCH 23, 1912: THE ISSUE

To Henry Wallace, the father of Franklin D. Roosevelt's Vice President, he wrote that
"what is needed for me is to follow the advice given by the New Bedford whaling captain
to his mate when he told him that all he wanted from him was silence and damn little of that."

Convinced that the Republicans would lose in the next presidential election, he thought
that the best plan would be to renominate Taft, go down in defeat, then reorganize
the party under progressive leadership. He would not openly endorse Senator Robert
La Follette, the leader of the National Progressive Republican League and an active can-
didate for the Republican nomination.

Then — on October 27, 1911 — Taft's government brought a suit against the U.S. Steel
Corporation for violating the Sherman Anti-Trust Act, and this changed the political scene.
The implication of the suit was that Roosevelt, under whose administration the steel cor-
poration had bought the Tennessee Coal and Iron Company, was either a tool of big
business or a fool, whom bankers and businessmen could deceive at will. Roosevelt was
infuriated. In red-hot anger he wrote an article for The Outlook. This put the limelight on
him; overnight he grew into a presidential candidate, overnight he became the man who
was to replace the bungling Taft.

Roosevelt now swam with powerful strokes in the political waters; he was in his element
again. The last week of February, after the complete collapse of La Follette's candidacy, he
announced: "My hat is in the ring." He was ready to take the nomination away from Taft.

561

THE BROKEN FRIENDSHIP

On April 25, President Taft told a Massachusetts
audience: "I am here to reply to an old and dear
friend of mine, Theodore Roosevelt, who made many
charges against me. I deny those charges. I deny all
of them. I do not want to fight Theodore Roosevelt,
but then sometimes a man in a corner fights. I am
going to fight." It was the first time that he had
attacked Roosevelt openly and by name. Next day
Roosevelt replied in Worcester that Taft's attack on
him was a "deliberate misrepresentation" of the
issues. The voices of the two antagonists grew shrill.
On May 4, Taft reiterated at Hyattsville, Maryland:
"I'm a man of peace, and I don't want to fight. But
when I do fight I want to hit hard. Even a rat in a
corner will fight." After that it was a free-for-all.

DEMANDING "POPULAR GOVERNMENT"

"Because I believe in genuine popular rule," said
Roosevelt on February 26, 1912, before the Massa-
chusetts Legislature, "I favor direct nominations,
direct primaries; including direct preferential Presi-
dential primaries, not only for local but for state

delegates " The New York Times wrote that "the

radical difference" between Roosevelt's and Taft's
political beliefs was over "what the progressives call
'popular government' — the initiative, referendum
and recall."

Right:

EVERYWHERE ROOSEVELT WENT he was

enthusiastically welcomed. At Easton, Pa., on April
11, 1912, where this picture was taken, his cheering
supporters almost dragged him from his automobile.

562

CAMPAIGNING FOR THE NOMINATION

563

AN APRIL FOOL CARTOON by Harold T. Webster, published on April 1, 1912, when
President Taft was still in a quandary how to fight his former friend. But before the month was
out, both men had forgotten their friendship. Taft called his predecessor "a demagogue," a
"flatterer of the people," a "dangerous egotist," a man who "could not tell the truth." And
Roosevelt shot back that Taft was a "puzzlewit" and a "fathead," with "brains less than
those of a guinea pig." It was a deplorable performance. Yet the public loved it.

564

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IS HE A MADMAN? A Chicago real estate dealer
offered $1,000 to charity (which he later upped to
$5,000) if Roosevelt was "not found to be insane."
At about the same time Dr. Allen McLane Hamilton
in the New York Times questioned Roosevelt's sanity,
while the psychologist Dr. Morton Price stated that,

in his opinion, Roosevelt would "go down in history
as one of the most illustrious psychological examples
of the distortion of conscious mental processes
through the forces of.subsconscious wishes." That
these doctors who wished to prove insanity were loyal
supporters of President Taft goes without saying.

FIGHTING FOR DELEGATES. From April until the opening of the Republican con-
vention in June, Roosevelt campaigned vigorously. He spoke in state after state to secure
delegates who would support him. He urged the method of a direct primary, knowing too
well that only through the adoption of this method could he be successful. Though the
forces of the administration fought the adoption of direct primaries, Massachusetts, Penn-
sylvania, Illinois, Maryland, Ohio, and South Dakota joined the six states where the direct
primary was already in use.

It was a seesaw battle, with hard fighting in every state convention. When words ran out,
baseball bats took over. When arguments seemed useless, fists began their reasoning. Taft,
as President, started off with a definite advantage. His hold on the Republican organization
in the Solid South could not be challenged, and he had in his corner the delegates from
New York, Michigan, Kentucky, and Indiana.

But the support for Roosevelt mounted steadily. He won the Illinois direct primary, and
he won in Pennsylvania, in California, Minnesota, Nebraska, and South Dakota.

The high point of the contest came in Ohio; both Taft and Roosevelt put all their efforts
into winning that state. Within the span of a single week Roosevelt addressed Ohio audi-
ences ninety times, and Taft matched his performance to the letter. The result of the dra-
matic struggle was a Roosevelt victory; he captured every district delegate of Ohio.

Would that impress the Republican National Committee, which was to decide about the
credentials of the delegates? The country waited with bated breath to hear that decision.

565

THE TAFT-ROOSEVELT FIGHT, AS SEEN BY MACAULEY IN THE NEW YORK WORLD

CONTEST FOR DELEGATES. The above cartoons were published the first fortnight of
June 1912, at the time the Republican convention assembled in Chicago to name a candi-
date for the Presidency.

The Roosevelt forces contested 254 seats before the National Committee. This was about
one third of the total. Of these contested seats, the committee — more interested in seating
the Taft delegates than in handing down impartial judgment — awarded 235 seats to the
Taft men and only 19 to those for Roosevelt. Chicago and the country at large were in an
emotional turmoil. If the Credentials Committee in the convention was to accept the deci-
sion of the Taft-dominated National Committee, Roosevelt could not receive the nomina-

566

WEBSTER'S CARTOON IN THE NEW YORK GLOBE AGAINST CANDIDATE ROOSEVELT

tion. The questions on everybody's lips were: What would be the decision of the Credentials
Committee and what would be the decision of the convention? The New York Times wrote
that the Roosevelt men would stop at nothing short of assault and burglary to see their
hero nominated. The celebrated Mr. Dooley predicted that the convention would be "a
comby nation iv th' Chicago fire, Saint Bartholomew's massacree, the battle iv th' Boyne,
th' life iv Jessie James, an' th' night iv th' big wind." And when Hennessey asked him
whether he was going, Dooley answered: "Iv course I'm goin'! I haven't missed a riot in
this neighborhood in forty years, an' onless I'm deceived by the venal Republican press this
wan will rejoice the heart " It certainly fitted his prediction.

567

THE REPUBLICAN CONVENTION in Chicago
named Taft with 561 votes against 107 for Roosevelt.
However, 344 of the delegates abstained from voting.

THE PROGRESSIVE CONVENTION in Chicago
nominated Roosevelt, the man who said he stood at
Armageddon and would "battle for the Lord."

THE DEMOCRATIC CONVENTION in Balti-
more named Wobdrow Wilson, the liberal governor of
New Jersey, as the party's presidential candidate.

THE CONVENTIONS OF 1912

The Republican convention opened in Chicago on
June 18. Passions ran high, and partisanship erupted
into fistfights. When Roosevelt's old friend Elihu
Root, now a Taft supporter, was chosen as the chair-
man of the convention, the Roosevelt men shouted:
"Liar, thief, swindler"; they accused the Taft organ-
ization with steam-rolling the convention. Thus,
every time the new chairman rose, they shouted,
"Toot-toot!" and rubbed sandpaper sheets together,
giving an imitation of a steam roller.

The night before the delegates began to ballot,
and when it was already clear that he would be
beaten, Roosevelt told his supporters: "What hap-
pens to me is not of the slightest consequence; I am
to be used, as in a doubtful battle any man is used,
to his hurt or not, so long as he is useful and is then
cast aside and left to die. I wish you to feel this. I
mean it; and I shall need no sympathy when you
are through with me." And he ended his eloquent
appeal with the memorable words: "We fight in
honorable fashion for the good of mankind, unheed-
ing of our individual fates; with unflinching hearts
and undimmed eyes, we stand at Armageddon and
we battle for the Lord."

Taft was nominated with 561 votes against Roo-
sevelt's 107. But 344 delegates refrained from voting.
Their silence meant disapproval of the party's offi-
cial candidate. That same night Roosevelt said in
another meeting: "If you wish me to make the fight,
I will make it, even if only one state should sup-
port me."

Thus the signal for the third party was hoisted. A
few weeks later, on August 5, the Progressives held
a convention in Chicago and nominated Roosevelt
as their standard-bearer. To twenty thousand cheer-
ing supporters Roosevelt delivered his "Confession
of Faith," an exceedingly long address. The speech
was, in the words of the New York Sun, "a manifesto
of revolution. It is a program of wild and dangerous
changes. It proposes popular nullification of the
Constitution. It proposes state socialism." The arch-
conservative newspaper was in a doldrum.

The platform of the Progressive party asked for
trust regulation and for the development of agricul-
tural credit. It endorsed reform legislation for a
direct primary, for woman's suffrage, for a scientific
tariff commission, for better working conditions in the
factories, for minimum wage standards, for abolition
of child labor, for an eight-hour working day.

With the Republicans split in two, there was no
doubt that the Democrats would win the election.
As their candidate they nominated Woodrow
Wilson, the reform-minded governor of New Jersey.

568

THE FIRST PHOTOGRAPH OF THE PROGRESSIVE PARTY, taken in the Chicago
Opera House on June 22, 1912. A few hours before, the Regular Republicans had chosen
President Taft as their candidate, and now Roosevelt promised to run on a third-party ticket.

"A PERFECTLY CORKING TIME" read the cap- "ON TO CHICAGO" read the caption on July 9
tion on June 21 under this Macauley cartoon, drawn under another Macaiiley cartoon, in which the car-
after the Republicans had convened in Chicago, toonist ridiculed Roosevelt and his Bull Moose Party.

569

THE BULL MOOSE CAMPAIGN

CARTOONISTS ATTACKED ROOSEVELT

in the regular Republican press with unprecedented
force and violence. Tempers flared; accusations flew
freely in this — probably the most emotional cam-
paign in American history. Rollin Kirby drew
Roosevelt as Moses. "Follow me, can't you see I'm
Moses," read the caption under this cartoon, which
Harper's Weekly published on September 7, 1912.

"THE REVOLUTIONIST" was the title of this
E. W. Kemble Harper's Weekly cartoon, printed on
June 8, 1912. In it Roosevelt foments the fire of
"Class Hatred" and "Discontent" under the chained
and suffering figure of "The Republic." In the back-
ground Kemble drew a revolutionary mob, with wav-
ing flags, knives and rifles, whose dark shadows
cheer the deed of the "Revolutionist" Roosevelt

WILSON ACCEPTED the

presidential nomination of the
Democratic party at his summer
home in Sea Girt, New Jersey.
In his acceptance speech he
gave a clear outline of his political
philosophy, the New Freedom. He
promised tariff reform and regu-
lation of the trusts, he pledged
to seek adequate laws for the
protection of labor, for the con-
servation of natural resources,
and for better education of the
nation's youth. And he declared:
"We desire to set up a government
that cannot be used for private
purposes either in the field of
business or in the field of politics."

570

"THE NATIONAL PEST," a Kemble cartoon in
the September 28, 1912, issue of Harper's Weekly,
depicts Roosevelt as an insect which "appears regu-
larly every four years," named "Species Cicada
Rooseveltia." On the chest of it the artist drew
a big "I," alluding to Roosevelt's egomania. Kemble
was one of Roosevelt's most powerful antagonists,
scoring savagely as he fought him with his pencil.

Ittbn tw aft** «« ***dfot*1*
Thoagh t I* yc^ fro* 0*

THE PROGRESSIVE TICKET. A photographic
campaign poster with a Rudyard Kipling quatrain
under the pictures of the candidates. Roosevelt had
no great hope of winning the election. On August 14
he wrote to his friend Arthur Hamilton Lee that in
his judgment Woodrow Wilson, whom he considered
to be a good candidate, "will win, and that I will do
better than Taft" — a superbly accurate prediction.

WILLIAM H. TAFT, after his
nomination by the Republican
convention, shied away from the
campaign, following the tradition
that a President should not stump
for his re-election. Though his
followers worked hard for him,
Taft's hopes were dim long before
the voters gave their verdict.
"There are so many people in the
country who don't like me," he
lamented. With Roosevelt and
Wilson eloquently expounding
their political beliefs, people
seemed to have forgotten that
there was a third contender in the
fray-— clumsy, unhappy, well-
meaning William Howard Taft.

571

THE BULLET OF THE ASSASSIN pierced through the folded manuscript of the speech
and a steel spectacle case which Roosevelt was carrying in his breast pocket. Otherwise it

would have killed him.

As the angry crowd jumped upon the assassin, Roosevelt ordered: "Don't hurt the man."
Raising his bloody handkerchief, he indicated that he wanted to see his assailant. And as the
trembling John Crank stood before him, Roosevelt muttered: "The poor creature."

SHOT IN MILWAUKEE

On October 14 at Milwaukee, as Roosevelt was
leaving the Gilpatrick Hotel to make a campaign
speech, he was shot by an insane fanatic. The man's
name was John Crank, and why he wanted to kill
Roosevelt was clear neither to him nor to anyone else.
Though Roosevelt had no knowledge as to the
seriousness of his wound, he refused to go to the
hospital, but drove on where the people waited for

him. "I will make this speech or die. It is one thing
or the other."

Reaching the platform, he told the assembly
in a whispering voice: "I am going to ask you to be
very quiet and please excuse me from making a long
speech. I'll do the best I can, but there is a bullet in
my body." It was one of the great dramatic moments
of his life, and he played it to the full. "I have
a message to deliver," he went on, "and will deliver

572

THE BLOODY SHIRT OF ROOSEVELT, which he had later discarded in his railway
car. "I shaved and took out the studs and buttons from my bloody shirt and put them in a
clean shirt, as I thought I might be stiff next morning. This all tired me a little, and when
I lay down in my bunk my heart was again beating fast enough, and my breath was short
enough, to make me feel uncomfortable. But after a while I found that I could turn, if I
did it very carefully, to my un wounded side, and then I fell asleep,"

it as long as there is life in my body."

The audience was under his spell. "I have had an
A-l time in life and I am having it now," he kept
on, charging that "it was a very natural thing that
weak and vicious minds should be inflamed to acts
of violence by the kind of awful mendacity and abuse
that have been heaped upon me for the last three
months by the papers in the interests of not only
Mr. Debs but of Mr. Wilson and Mr. Taft." For an

hour and a half he held the platform while the
bullet was in his chest.

The X-rays showed that the wound was only
superficial. A surgeon commented in awe: "It is
largely due to the fact that he is a physical marvel
that he was not dangerously wounded. He is one
of the most powerful men I have ever seen laid on
an operating table. The bullet lodged in the massive
muscles of the chest instead of penetrating the lung."

573

Dumttv tat on Hit wall.

n 4li • • * "

Dum|>iy ha4 a
All tfte* ex- bosses
And Bully Moose men.,
Cau

^ t, '

AFTER THE ELECTION Roosevelt said: "The fight is over. We are beaten. There is only
one thing to do and that is to go back to the Republican party. You can't hold a party like
the Progressive party together. . . . There are no loaves and fishes." He received 4,1 19,507
votes against Taft's 3,484,956, but Wilson won by a wide margin with 6,293,019 votes.

574

CHAPTER XL

THE RISE OF
WOODROW WILSON

That it was Theodore Roosevelt who opened the gates of the White House
for Woodrow Wilson was an irony of fate. Roosevelt came to hate Wilson; he
loathed him with an intensity that bordered on the pathological.

Early in the presidential campaign Wilson assessed the fundamental differ-
ence between them. "Roosevelt," he said, "is a real vivid person whom the
people have seen and shouted themselves hoarse over and voted for, millions
strong; I am a vague, conjectural personality, more made up of opinions and
academic prepossessions than of human traits and red corpuscles." There was,
of course, more to it, but on the whole Wilson's characterization was to the
point. The extrovert Roosevelt, with his unparalleled energy, human warmth,
and robust animal spirits, was the antithesis of the scholarly and reflective
Wilson, a man of quiet tastes who preferred the rapier to the broadsword,
and whose closest approach to the "strenuous life" was an occasional game of
golf. Roosevelt, spending his adult life in the political cauldron, possessed the
common touch to a remarkable degree and was a master in the political art
of compromise; Wilson, spending his adult years in the academic groves, was
warm with intimate friends but inflexible in his prejudices and unable to ac-
commodate himself to people and ideas he disliked. Yet for all his political in-
experience, Wilson proved an amazingly adept politician during the years he
was in public office. For all his unaggressive inclination toward the contem-
plative life, he proved a doughty fighter of unyielding courage when the
battle lines were drawn. And for all his aloofness and his tendency to admire
the common man from a safe distance, he showed himself to be one of
the great leaders of the people.

His life ran on an even keel. Born in Staunton, Virginia, the son and
grandson of Presbyterian ministers, he spent his early years in Georgia and
the Carolinas amid the devastation and demoralization of the Reconstruction.
His family environment imbued him with a respect for learning and a lifelong
habit of regarding all public issues in the moral terms of right and wrong. He
studied at Davidson College in North Carolina, then at Princeton University,
where he read the lives of the great statesmen in order to master the art
of public speaking. After his graduation he entered the University of Virginia,
where he studied law. A short career as a practicing lawyer followed, but
when he realized he could not make a success of it, he went back to more studies
at Johns Hopkins University. He decided to become a teacher and taught for

575

four years at Bryn Mawr and Wesleyan. In 1890 he returned to Princeton,
joining the faculty as professor of jurisprudence and political economy. Twelve
years later — in 1902 — he was elected president of that institution. These were
the milestones of his career — this was the path of his life.

In 1910, at the instigation of the reform elements within the Democratic
party, Wilson became a gubernatorial candidate of New Jersey. In this way —
at the age of fifty-four — he started out in politics, the profession he had sought
ever since his undergraduate days. "The profession I chose was politics," he
later wrote, "the profession I entered, the law. I entered the one because
I thought it would lead to the other."

At Princeton, Wilson once said that academic politicians could make party
politicians seem like mere amateurs. He now proceeded to demonstrate that
the same methods which could win over recalcitrant students or trustees would
work also on New Jersey voters. He captivated his audiences by his unassum-
ing candor and his knack for translating complex issues into understandable
terms. And when the ballots were counted, they showed that the professor had
been elected to the governorship of New Jersey by the biggest majority ever
given to a Democrat.

In his new office Governor Wilson proceeded to blast away the precon-
ceptions of the reformers, who had considered him a front for the machine,
and the bosses, who had supposed that such an inexperienced theorist would
be putty in their hands. Within a few months of his inauguration, he was at
the head of the progressive movement. In quick succession, and over the op-
position of the bosses, he pushed through a direct primaries law, a cor-
rupt practices act, and an employers' liability act, as well as legislation setting
up a public utilities commission and establishing new safeguards against
municipal corruption. Before his first year was up, New Jersey had become a
virtual laboratory for reform politics and Wilson was thought to be the most
probable Democratic candidate for the Presidency in 1912.

And while Wilson was steadily building up his reputation outside his state
by extensive speaking tours, his friend Colonel E. M. House, a quiet liberal
from Texas, worked behind the scenes on his behalf. Together the two men
shared a vision, and together they shared an apprehension. Wilson expressed
it in the course of a Western speaking tour: "There is a tremendous under-
current of protest, which is bound to find expression. Taft will be renominated
by the Republicans; unless the Democrats nominate someone whom the
people can accept as expressing this protest there will be a radical third party
formed and the result of the election may be little short of revolution."
Of Roosevelt, whose hat was already in the ring, Wilson said privately: "God
save us from him now in his present insane distemper of egotism."

When the Democratic convention met in Baltimore's sweltering Fifth Regi-
ment Armory, the challenge to the party was clear. With the Republican
forces split between Taft and Roosevelt, the Democrats were almost certain to
win the Presidency. But to be sure of a victory after twenty-four years in the
desert, they had to nominate an appealing progressive who could keep the liberal

576

element behind the Democratic candidate and away from the lure of Roosevelt.

William Jennings Bryan, whose Western followers held the balance of
power, dramatized this issue by offering a resolution renouncing any candi-
date under obligation to the "privilege-hunting and favor-seeking class." The
Eastern conservatives and Tammany Hall stood firm. They tried to eliminate
Wilson by publishing a letter in which Wilson had said — some five years
before — that he wished Bryan might be knocked into a cocked hat. Their
maneuver failed. Bryan knew better; he would not be swayed by such an ob-
vious political trick. Ballot after ballot was taken, and still no decision.
Champ Clark, the Senator of Missouri, commanded the majority of the votes,
but he was not able to secure the support of two thirds of the delegates. When
after the twelfth ballot Tammany Hall unequivocally came out for him,
Bryan declared that he would not support a candidate blessed by Tammany
Hall. This was the moment for Woodrow Wilson, who now renounced
Tammany in a firm tone. Bryan swung behind Wilson, and the move for the
nomination of the New Jersey governor was on. Still, not until the forty-sixth
ballot could Wilson become the candidate of his party.

The ensuing campaign was one of the most exciting in American presiden-
tial history. Roosevelt battled for the Lord, Taft fought for political survival,
and Wilson talked common sense.

As a campaigner, Wilson could not match Roosevelt. He was not a glad-
hander; he could not bring himself to slap backs or kiss babies; he admitted
that his "Presbyterian face" photographed badly; he disliked the glib general-
ities implicit in whistle-stop oratory. But what his speeches lacked in bombast
they more than made up in sense, and his doctrine of the "New Freedom"
held out the hope of an orderly program of reform which would make
the government responsible to public opinion and would guarantee freedom
from economic exploitation without recourse to radicalism.

Though the election returns gave him only 42 per cent of the popular vote,
the victory in the Electoral College was his. He heard the good news after a
quiet evening at home, listening to his wife's reading of Browning's poems.

Between his election and his inaugural in March of 1913, the President-elect
and his advisers drew up the blueprints for a program that would translate the
"New Freedom" into reality — a program which was to include the first real
tariff reduction in half a century, a strengthening of anti-trust legislation,
establishment of the Federal Trade Commission, a stronger banking sys-
tem, an eight-hour day for railway labor, and a host of other reforms. "The
nation," Wilson declared in his deeply moving inaugural address, "has been
deeply stirred by a solemn passion, stirred by the knowledge of wrong, of
ideals lost, of government too often debauched and made an instrument
of evil. The feelings with which we face this new age of right and opportunity
sweep across our heartstrings like some air out of God's own presence, where
justice and mercy are reconciled and the judge and the brother are as one."

This was the new voice of the country, this was the new voice of progressiv-
ism, this was the new voice which carried on the ideas of Theodore Roosevelt.

577

THE ANCESTORS OF WOODROW WILSON

GRANDPARENTS. James Wilson set sail from
County Down, Ireland, in 1807. He met on the boat
Anne Adams from Ulster; the two were married in
Philadelphia the next year. A newspaper editor, he
later founded the Pennsylvania Advocate at Pittsburgh.

PARENTS. Joseph Ruggles Wilson started out as a
printer, but because of his interest in the church
became a Presbyterian minister. His wife, Janet
(familiarly called Jessie), was born in England, her
father, Thomas Woodrow, a Presbyterian minister.

WILSON'S BIRTHPLACE, the Manse at Staunton,
Virginia, where he was born on December 28, 1856.
(He was born twenty-six months before Roosevelt.)
Wilson always prided himself on being a Virginian,
though his parents came from Ohio, his grandparents
from Ireland and England, and his family moved
less than a year after his birth to Augusta, Georgia.

WHEN WILSON WAS FOURTEEN his father be-
came a member of the faculty of the Presbyterian the-
ological seminary in Columbia, the capital of South
Carolina. Here Wilson (sitting before the pillar) grew
up with two sisters and his brother. Three years later
his father accepted a pastorate in Wilmington, N. C.,
and Woodrow Wilson entered Davidson College.

The early life of Woodrow Wilson offered no promise of greatness. His childhood and
adolescence were uneventful. Sent by his parents to Davidson College in North Carolina,
he spent a year there, then entered Princeton, his father's alma mater. Graduating the
year before Theodore Roosevelt received his degree from Harvard, he began the study
of law at the University of Virginia, and hung out his shingle in Atlanta, Georgia,

578

A FAMILY ALBUM

OF
WILSON'S EARLY LIFE

WILSON AND HIS WIFE. On June 24, 1885,
Woodrow Wilson married Ellen Louise Axson, the
daughter of a Presbyterian minister at Rome, Georgia.
He was then 28; behind him were years of study in
Princeton and the University of Virginia Law School

POSTGRADUATE STUDENT at Johns Hopkins
University in the year of 1884. Wilson (standing
second from the left) with members of the Glee Club.
Though he rebelled against some of the courses re-
quired for a doctorate in history, in the seminar led by
Professor Herbert Adams his interest was revived,
and he wrote Congressional Government— his first book.

GRADUATING FROM PRINCETON in 1879,
where he was managing editor of the Princetonian.
His marks were good but not outstanding. On the
board of the newspaper were Charles A. Talcott,
W. F. Magic, T. D. Warren, G. S.Johns standing; E. O.
Roessle, Wilson, and H. B. Fine sitting. After leaving
Princeton, he studied law at the University of Virginia.

in 1882. But a year of unremunerative practice convinced him that he was not suited
for the career of a lawyer. Wanting to become a teacher, he enrolled at Johns Hopkins
University to earn the degree of Ph.D. Two important events— both occurring in 1885—
augured well for his future: the writing of a book on Congressional Government and his
marriage to Ellen Louise Axson, the daughter of a Presbyterian minister in Georgia.

579

PROFESSOR AT BRYN MAWR

In 1885, the very year that Wilson married Ellen
Axson, he became Associate Professor of history at
Bryn Mawr. He soon came to the conclusion that
the teaching of women was irksome and not to his
liking. The following year (June 1886) he earned his
Ph.D. degree at Johns Hopkins University. For two
more years he stayed at Bryn Mawr, leaving there in
September 1888, when he happily accepted a teach-
ing assignment at Wesleyan University in Middle-
town, Connecticut, delighted to have men students.

PRESIDENT OF PRINCETON

In 1890 Wilson became Professor of jurisprudence
and political economy at Princeton. He was content
in his post. Besides teaching, he wrote books and
articles. Several colleges and universities asked him
to become their president, but he declined all offers.
In 1902 he was elected president of Princeton, where
he introduced the preceptorial system and a plan for
departmentalized and co-ordinated study, as well as
pressing for a quadrangle plan of housing for the
student body, to eliminate the snobbish eating clubs.

580

THE WILSON FAMILY. The Wilsons with their
three daughters: Eleanor Randolph, who later mar-

GOVERNOR

In the tempestuous 1910 election
when the Republican progressives
battled against President Taft
and the standpatters, the Demo-
crats emerged victorious. With a
large majority Woodrow Wilson
was elected to the governorship
of New Jersey — a stepping stone
to the Presidency.

In the photograph Wilson is
behind his desk at his Trenton
office. Next to him stands his
secretary, Joseph P. Tumulty. Sit-
ting on the left is William Bayard
Hale, later a Wilson biographer.

ried William Gibbs McAdoo, Margaret, and Jessie
Woodrow, later the wife of Francis Bowes Sayre.

581

TAFT AND HIS SUCCESSOR

Taft was relieved that his troubles were over. He
cared little for the Presidency and was not sorry to
leave the White House. He loathed the fight and
the scramble for political power. He liked peace.

His defeat was complete. Wilson won the election,
carrying forty out of the forty-eight states, with
6,293,019 votes. Taft received only 3,484,956, and
Roosevelt — who had put him in the Presidency and
then opposed him— had 4,119,507 votes. The Re-
publican party was in shambles; the new man of the
hour was Woodrow Wilson.

After twenty-four years of Republican rule, Wilson
was the first Democratic President, and the first
President since Abraham Lincoln to be born in a
southern state. He saw "the vision of a new day,"
and he knew that his work was "a work of restoration. "

In his inaugural he indicted the previous admin-
istration: "The great government we love has too
often been made use of for private and selfish pur-
poses and those who used it have forgotten the people.
There has been something crude, heartless and un-
feeling in our effort to succeed and be great; our
thought has been, let every man look out for himself;
let every generation look out for itself."

The new President held out for a better and more
abundant life. "This is not a day of triumph," he
said in his moving inaugural address, "it is a day of
dedication. Here muster not the forces of party but
the forces of humanity. Men's hearts must wait upon
us; men's lives hang in the balance; men's hopes
call upon us to say what we will do. Who shall live
up to the great trust? Who dares to try it? I summon
all honest men, all patriotic, all forward-looking
men to my side. God helping me, I will not fail them
if they will but counsel and sustain me."

LEAVING FOR THE INAUGURAf ION

ONE MORE, PLEASE! asked the pho-
tographers as Taft and Wilson faced the
battery of cameras before leaving the
White House for the inaugural ceremonies
on the morning of March 4, 1913.

Taft — in one of his last pictures as President — is
his usual jovial self, while Wilson— not yet accus-
tomed to manipulating his face for the public —
appears ill at ease. He may have been thinking of
the limerick he was so fond of quoting:

For beauty I am not a star,

There are hundreds more handsome by far,

But my face I don't mind it,

For I am behind it,

It's the people in front that I jar.

583

MARCH 4, 1913: WOODROW WILSON TAKES THE OATH OF OFFICE. In his

inaugural address the new President spoke of "the things that ought to be altered." He spoke
of the "tariff which cuts us off from our proper part in the commerce of the world . . . and
makes the government a facile instrument in the hands of private interests"; he spoke of
the banking and currency system, which was in need of overhauling, and he spoke of the
"industrial system which . , . holds capital in leading strings, restricts the liberties and limits
the opportunities of labor, and exploits without renewing or conserving the natural
resources of the country."

Wilson presented an ambitious New Freedom program— to be accomplished within the
framework of the existing social system. Based not only on Populist and progressive ideas,
but also on Roosevelt's New Nationalism, it was a long-awaited program, a signal
program of reform* "We must abolish everything," said Wilson in his first message to
Congress, "that bears even the semblance of privilege or any kind of artificial advantage."

584

CHAPTER XLI

TWILIGHT DAYS

The defeat of 1912 shattered him, but outwardly he acted as if it were of no
great consequence that he had lost the fight. To the sympathy notes of his
friends he replied with unshaken confidence. "We have fought the good fight,
we have kept the faith, and we have nothing to regret," he wrote to James
Garfield. "As things were this year, there was no human being who could have
made any fight or have saved the whole movement from collapse if I had not
been willing to step in and take the hammering," he said to Arthur Hamilton
Lee. "It was a phenomenal thing to be able to bring the new party into second
place and to beat out the Republicans," he wrote to Henry White.

Still, this was the greatest defeat of his career. Success had now abandoned
him and he had to contend with failure. Abused by the regulars for smashing
the party, shunned by former friends and assailed by enemies, he was learning
the bitter experience of defeat. There was no more surge to shake his hand when
he attended a public function. Once when he went with a friend to a meeting
of the Harvard Board of Overseers, the atmosphere was so chilly toward them
that they felt "like a pair of Airedale pups in a convention of tomcats."

A weaker man would have been crushed under it, but Roosevelt — never a
contemplative character — would not moan over the past. For him there was
always the tomorrow. He was always full of plans, there was always work
ahead of him. He began to work on his Autobiography, and he collaborated with
Edmund Heller, the naturalist from the Smithsonian Institution, on the Life
Histories of African Game Animals.

He instituted a libel suit against a small country newspaper editor in Michi-
gan, who charged him with drunkenness. Throughout his political career he
was often angered by people accusing him of being a heavy drinker. During
the Progressive campaign when rumors again went the rounds about this, he
made up his mind to fight them as soon as he had a clear case. Thus, when
the Old Guard newspaper editor George A. Newett repeated the charge in
print, Roosevelt brought suit, to squelch the lie once and for all.

The case was tried at Marquette, Michigan, the last week of May 1913. For
five days, witness after witness testified that they had never seen Roosevelt in-
toxicated. His former secretary, William Loeb, Jr., told the jury that his chief
could not have been drunk during the past fifteen years without his knowing
it, yet he never saw him show any effects of alcohol. The Chicago newspaper-
man O'Laughlin testified: "I not only never have seen Colonel Roosevelt under
the influence of liquor but it is an absolutely silly thing to me that anybody
should bring such a charge against him."

585

Roosevelt himself told the court: "I have never drunk a cocktail or highball
in my life. ... I never drank whisky or brandy except under the advice of a
physician. I don't care for the taste of either.

"I don't smoke and I don't drink beer. I dislike smoking and dislike the taste
of beer. I never have drunk whisky or brandy except when the doctor prescribed
it, or possibly on some occasion after great exposure when I was chilled
through. But it has been certainly fifteen or twenty years since I have drunk
it because of being chilled through."

The newspaper editor, unable to produce a single witness against Roosevelt,
retracted his charges and offered an apology. Roosevelt, who had only brought
the suit to "deal with these slanders so that never again will they be repeated,"
requested only nominal damages in the amount of six cents, and these were
awarded to him. "I deemed it best not to demand money damages," he said
after the trial. "The man is a country editor, and while I thoroughly despise
him, I do not care to seem to prosecute him."

It was a few days before he left for Michigan to attend the trial that he wrote
to his niece's husband in Washington. Young Franklin Delano Roosevelt, the
recipient of the note, had become Assistant Secretary of the Navy two months
earlier, and now Theodore Roosevelt sent him a letter of advice. "It is not my
place to advise, but there is one matter so vital that I want to call your atten-
tion to it. I do not anticipate trouble with Japan, but it may come, and if it
does it will come suddenly. In that case we shall be in an unpardonable
position if we permit ourselves to be caught with our fleet separated. There
ought not to be a battleship or any formidable fighting craft in the Pacific un-
less our entire fleet is in the Pacific. Russia's fate ought to be a warning for all
time as to the criminal folly of dividing the fleet if there is even the remotest
chance of war." Franklin agreed wholeheartedly with "Uncle Theodore's"
suggestion not to divide the fleet, and asked the elder Roosevelt to write a
magazine article about it.

During the summer of 1913, invitations for speeches came from universities
in Brazil, Argentina, and Chile. Eager for action, Roosevelt accepted them.
He would go to South America, give the requested addresses, then take a trip
into the jungle, proving once more that he had not yet become old and that
he still had the prowess and the strength as of yore.

On October 5 the New York Tribune reported: "Colonel Roosevelt, with his
party of six, sailed on his South American trip yesterday by the Lamport &
Holt liner Vandyck, which left Pier 8, Brooklyn, at 1 P.M.

"There was a crowd to see him sail, but it was not the same sort of throng
that congested ship and pier in Hoboken when the colonel started out on his
African junket on March 23, 1909."

The party included Mrs. Roosevelt, Kermit, the Reverend John A. Zahn,
provincial of the Order of the Holy Cross, and the scientists George K. Cherries
and Anthony Fiala.

The lectures taken care of, Mrs. Roosevelt returned to the States, and the
expedition — augmented by Colonel Rondon and two Brazilian engineers —
was on its way into unexplored territory. On January 16, 1914, Roosevelt

586

wrote to Frank Michler Chapman: "We are now about to go into the real
wilderness, where we shall have to travel light, and can hardly collect any big
animals. In a month or six weeks we shall reach the headwaters of an un-
explored river. If my health continues good, as I expect, I think it possible that
I will go down this river to try and find out where it comes out, taking
Kermit, Fiala and Cherries with me as well as Colonel Rondon and two of
the Brazilians."

His aim was to collect animal and botanical specimens for New York's
Museum of Natural History and to map the River of Doubt, an unexplored
tributary of the Amazon, flowing for almost a thousand miles from lower
Brazil north to that river. It was a perilous voyage, and when it was over,
Roosevelt reported: "We have had a hard and somewhat dangerous but very
successful trip. No less than six weeks were spent in slowly and with peril and
exhausting labor forcing our way down through what seemed a literally end-
less succession of rapids and cataracts. For forty-eight days we saw no human
being. In passing these rapids we lost five of the seven canoes with which we
started and had to build others. One of our best men lost his life in the rapids.
Under the strain one of the men went completely bad, shirked all his work,
stole his comrades' food and when punished by the sergeant he with cold-
blooded deliberation murdered the sergeant and fled into the wilderness. Col.
Rondon's dog, running ahead of him while hunting, was shot by two Indians;
by his death he in all probability saved the life of his master. We have put on
the map a river about 1500 kilometers in length running from just south of
the 13th degree to north of the 5th degree and the biggest affluent of the
Madeira. Until now its upper course has been utterly unknown to everyone,
and its lower course although known for years to the rubber-men utterly un-
known to all cartographers. Its source is between the 12th and 13th parallels
of latitude South, and between longitude 59° and longitude 60° west from
Greenwich."

Mile after mile, the unnavigable rapids were mastered by portages through
thick jungle growth. Roosevelt was badly hurt when his leg was jammed be-
tween a canoe and a rock in the river. Unable to walk, he had to be carried
by his companions. And then he contracted jungle fever and could not be
moved at all. With the supply of food at a low ebb, he begged the others to
leave him behind, a request which fell on deaf ears. As the trip came to its
close Roosevelt was 35 pounds thinner.

On May 19, 1914, after seven and a half months in South America, he
landed in New York. A newspaper reported that he was "leaning heavily on
a cane, and assisted by two men, toiled up the gangway from the landing place.
It was a shock to his old friends, to whom his unusual physical vigor had been
always a source of wonder, to note the change." Yet ten days later he was on
a boat again, sailing to his son Kermit's wedding in Spain.

587

THE NEWETT LIBEL SUIT

ROOSEVELT SUES FOR LIBEL. During the Progressive campaign rumors spread that
the Colonel was a heavy drinker. Exasperated by such accusations, Roosevelt made up his
mind that if the charge was repeated in print, he would sue the perpetrator of the slander.
Thus, when the Iron Ore, a small weekly in Ishpeming, Michigan, printed on October 12,
1912: "Roosevelt lies and curses in a most disgusting way; he gets drunk too, and that not
infrequently, and all his intimate friends know about it," the hurt and thoroughly angered
victim brought a libel action against the editor of the paper, George S. Newett.

ON THE STAND Roosevelt
testified: "I do not drink either
whiskey or brandy, except as I
shall hereafter say . . .; I do not
drink beer; I sometimes drink
light wine. ... I have never
drunk a highball or a cocktail in
my life. ... I may have drunk
half a dozen mint juleps in a
year. ... At home, at dinner, I
may partake of a glass or two
glasses of white wine. At a public
dinner, or a big dinner, I will
take a glass or two glasses of
champagne. ... In Africa the
expedition took with it a caae
of champagne, a case of whis-
key and a bottle of brandy."

588

FRONT PME

*vr«r*4.

THE WINNER. A cartoon by Spencer in the Omaha World Herald on May 27, 1913,
alluding to the publicity value of the suit against a man whose name no one remembered.
Before the court at Marquette, Michigan, scores of witnesses testified that Roosevelt never
drank except with moderation. Editor George S. Newett, the defendant in the libej action,
was not able to produce a single witness who gould testify otherwise; he had to admit that
he was not only misinformed, but was wrong and, in effect, offered an apology. Roosevelt
asked for but nominal damages, emphasizing that he had brought suit only to deal with
the slanders, "so that never again will it be possible for any man, in good faith, to repeat
them." He won his case; the court assessed six cents damages against the slandering editor.

589

IN THE SOUTH AMERICAN JUNGLE

>36tH<&".& ... :••• •" "- ' . '•.•'•.'.: „• v'-^V ':••;.

THE SOUTH AMERICAN EXPEDITION WAS UNDER AN EVIL STAR— ENDING ALMOST

"I had to go," said Roosevelt. "It was my last chance
to be a boy." So he went. The expedition left New
York on October 4, 1913, and returned on May 19,
1914. His son Kermit, who accompanied him on the
journey, left a record of these seven and a half dra-
matic months in his book The Happy Hunting Grounds.
At the request of the Brazilian government, the
scope of the expedition was enlarged. The party
fought their way through the uncharted regions of
western Brazil and mapped the River of Doubt, until
then an unexplored stream. (Later it was renamed

Rio T6odoro.) From the outset the expedition was
under an ill star. One of the men drowned, another
went crazy and killed his companion. When the food
supply ran out, the men ate what their guns provided
and what they could take from the water and from
the trees. Tropical downpours drenched them daily,
their clothes drying on their backs.

In the first week of April, Roosevelt contracted
jungle fever. Still, he kept on. One day, in an
attempt to save a pair of canoes, he again injured
the leg which had been hurt a dozen years earlier

590

HIS BIGGEST BAG was a tremendous bull ele-
phant which he shot at Meru. Photograph by Kermit

TWO OF HIS VICTIMS, a rhinoceros and a
bustard, were brought down by him at the same spot

IN DISASTER FOR THEODORE ROOSEVELT

in the Pittsficld accident. Abscesses developed on the
leg, causing him excruciating pain. Believing that his
presence only hindered the expedition, he told his son
Kermit: "We have reached a point where some of us
must stop. I feel I am only a burden to the party,"
and suggested that he should be left behind and
abandoned in the jungle. This was Roosevelt the
romantic, Roosevelt the heroic, Roosevelt the dra-
matic, ready to give up life and die a lonely death to
avoid being a burden to his associates. But Kermit
and the others brought him down the river to safety.

"I DID MY WRITING in headnet and gauntlets."
Some of his South American pieces for Scribner's Maga-
zine were written when he had a temperature of 105°.

MAY 20, 1914: EMERGING FROM THE JUNGLE.

Roosevelt was given a hero's welcome when he returned from his South
American expedition. News photographers caught him smiling, but it was
a forced smile. He was worn out, almost too weak to stand on his feet. The
fever contracted in the jungle left him tired and exhausted, "a veritable
plague of deep abscesses" caused him pain, his leg wound bothered him.
He was longing for his home and for a rest. During the period in the jungle
he had lost 35 pounds, of which 25 were regained on the homeward trip;
but with fever germs still in his body, he was a sick and frail man.

CHAPTER XLII

IN THE WORLD WAR

The very week that Roosevelt returned from his son's wedding in Spain, a
Serbian nationalist in Sarajevo, Bosnia, fired a shot that set the world afire.
From June 28, 1914, the day of the assassination of the Austrian Archduke
Franz Ferdinand, the precarious structure of great-power alliance In Europe
tottered in the balance. A month later it erupted in a world cataclysm which
Roosevelt had helped to stave off at the Algeciras Conference nine years earlier.

In America the country's opinion was best expressed by Senator John Sharp
Williams, who said that he was "mad all over, down to the very bottom of my
shoes, at this outbreak of senseless war." Yet the nation's official position
remained that of neutrality. President Wilson asked every man and woman to
be "impartial in thought as well as in action."

At first Roosevelt shared Wilson's determination to avoid America's entangle-
ment in the European war. "Only the clearest and most urgent national duty,"
he wrote in The Outlook, "would ever justify us in deviating from our rule
of neutrality and non-interference." But as the summer waned and Americans
became war-minded, so did Roosevelt. Writing his old friend Cecil Spring-Rice,
now British Ambassador at Washington, he said: "If I had been President, I
should have acted on the thirtieth or thirty-first of July, as head of a signatory
power to the Hague treaties, calling attention to the guaranty of Belgium's
neutrality and saying that I accepted the treaties as imposing a serious obliga-
tion which I expected not only the United States but all other neutral nations
to join in enforcing. Of course I would not have made such a statement unless
I was willing to back it up." In his articles for the Metropolitan Magazine and in
his addresses he spoke of America's international duty and its obligation to
aid the weak.

Despite the initial revulsion to the war, American "neutrality in thought"
proved impossible to maintain. The bonds of language, of temperament, of
tradition, and of economics were strong between the United States and the
mother country. With the exception of the Germans and the Irish, the sym-
pathies of the country were with Great Britain in the struggle.

The anti-German feeling increased as the atrocities of Germany's unrestricted
submarine warfare became publicized. Americans learned with shock and
horror that the British liner Lusitania, carrying munitions and passengers to
England, was torpedoed off the coast of Ireland with the loss of 1 100 lives,
many of them Americans. President Wilson sent a vigorous protest to the
German government — so vigorous indeed that William Jennings Bryan, who
held that Americans should be forbidden to travel on the armed ships of

593

belligerents, resigned as Secretary of State rather than associate himself with
what he feared would prove an ultimatum.

After the sinking of the Lusitania, Roosevelt said that the United States
would earn "measureless scorn and contempt if we follow the lead of those who
exalt peace above righteousness, if we heed the voice of the feeble folk who
bleat to high heaven for peace when there is no peace." Yet Wilson was con-
vinced that the nation as a whole was not ready to go to war. "There is such
a thing as a nation being so right that it does not need to convince others by
force that it is right," he said in an oft-quoted speech.

For Roosevelt, America's failure to act against Germany was "literally inex-
cusable and inexplicable." He attacked Wilson: "To treat elocution as a sub-
stitute for action, to rely upon high-sounding words unbacked by deeds,
is proof of a mind that dwells only in the realm of shadow and shame."

Still, in the summer of 1916 the issue whether America should enter the war
or not became a secondary one as the country's attention turned to the nomi-
nating conventions. The Democrats renominated President Wilson; the Repub-
licans chose Charles Evans Hughes. Roosevelt, who had previously declined
the nomination of the moribund Progressive party, rallied behind the Repub-
lican candidate and campaigned for him, though his support of the uninspiring
Hughes was not as enthusiastic as it would have been had his party chosen a
more effective man.

By an exceedingly slim margin Wilson, who had "kept us out of war," was
upheld by the voters. Yet even before he could be inaugurated, Germany
informed the United States that all merchant vessels within prescribed zones
of the Atlantic and Mediterranean would be sunk without warning. This
meant the end of Wilson's neutrality policy.

Diplomatic relations with Germany were severed. Wilson still had some
hope that "armed neutrality" might be feasible and that America would not
have to enter the conflict. Roosevelt knew better: "There is no question
of 'going to war.' Germany is already at war with us. The only question
is whether we shall make war nobly or ignobly." In February and March, Ger-
many sank eight American ships, and, as if this were not enough, the British
exposed a German plot for bringing Mexico and Japan into war against
America. The patience of the United States was exhausted. On April 2 Presi-
dent Wilson asked Congress to put America into the fight "for democracy, for
the right of those who submit to authority to have a voice in their own
governments, for the rights and liberties of small nations, for a universal
dominion of right by such a concert of free peoples as shall bring peace and
safety to all nations, and make the world itself at last free." Four days later
Congress declared war.

Roosevelt pointed out that Wilson's war message "bears out all I have said
for the past two and a half years, and condemns all he has said and done for
those two and a half years." With America at war, his consuming desire was
to raise a division of his own to take to the front. Since the fall of 1914 he had
been making plans for a new edition of the Rough Riders, and he sent to Sec-

594

retary of War Newton D. Baker an outline of the proposal. Baker replied that
it would be considered "should the occasion arise." Now that war had actually
come, Roosevelt, putting his pride in his pocket, repaired to Washington to
discuss the issue with the President himself. The conversation was amicable;
Wilson was charmed with his antagonist. Yet he would not promise Roosevelt
what he asked for; he would not send him to Europe at the head of a division.
"The business now in hand is undramatic, practical, and of scientific definite-
ness and precision," he explained later. For Roosevelt, the President's decision
of not allowing him to go to the front "was actuated by the basest and most
contemptible political reasons," and his hatred for Wilson grew.

Not being able to serve his country on the battlefield, he kept on writing
articles, kept on making speeches, throwing himself wholeheartedly into the
task of stimulating the country's martial spirit. He urged Americans to action,
he denounced the "folly and complacent sloth" of the Wilson administration,
which in his opinion had achieved "a miracle of inefficiency" through the lack
of an adequate preparedness program. Exasperated that he could only talk or
write when "it is only the doers who really count," he wrote to his son Theodore
that "the Administration has no conception of war needs, of what war means.
... If three years ago we had introduced universal military training, if we had
begun to build quantities of cannon, machine guns, rifles and airplanes . . .
the war would have been over now." He kept on hammering on the issue of
preparedness, he kept on urging the speeding up of the war effort and
the establishment of universal military training as a permanent policy.

On the floor of the Senate he was described as "the most potent agent the
Kaiser has in America." The Hearst newspapers asked for his imprisonment,
to which he retaliated that it was Hearst who had helped the German cause,
therefore it was the newspaper editor who should be executed.

Though he was sharply criticized by a great segment of the American public,
the fact remains that his emotional appeal, his sincerity and deep devotion to
his country helped to prepare the United States for the day when she was to
enter into the hostilities.

He took profound pride in his four sons, who joined the ranks and served at
the front with conspicuous bravery. Theodore, Jr., was wounded and twice cited
for gallantry; Kermit won the British Military Cross; Archibald was wounded
and won the Croix de Guerre; and Quentin became a combat aviator. He was
proud when Finley Peter Dunne told him: "The first thing you know your four
sons will put the name of Roosevelt on the map!"

In July 1918 the news came that Quentin, the youngest of the boys, had been
shot down behind German lines by two enemy fighter planes.

The death of his youngest son was a crushing blow to him, a blow from which
he never recovered. Gone forever was his youthful ebullience, gone forever his
vigor and his energy. He was feeble and he was tired; old age knocked at the
door. In October of that year, when he became sixty years old, he wrote to his
son Kermit that he was "glad to be sixty, for it somehow gives me the right to
be titularly as old as I feel."

595

A PRODIGIOUS READER, he was seldom without break from work, he read amongst a crowd, and he
a book. He read on his travels, he read when he took a read when he was alone. His literary taste had a wide

596

THE OUTBREAK
OF THE FIRST
WORLD WAR

A MOMENTOUS DAY

On June 28, 1914, Archduke Franz Ferdinand, the
heir to the throne of the Austro-Hungarian empire,
and his wife were shot to death in Sarejevo, Bosnia,
by a Pan-Slav nationalist.

A fortnight later the council of Austro-Hungarian
ministers— assured by "the complete support of Ger-
many"— was ready to take action against Serbia.
On July 23 an ultimatum was sent to Serbia, six
days later war was declared. On August 3 Germany
began war against France, on August 4 Great
Britain took up arms against Germany, on August 5
the Russian army marched into Germany. Within
days the great European powers were facing each
other on the battlefield in a world holocaust.

THE ASSASSIN OF THE ARCHDUKE, Gavrio
Princip, is rushed away by the police after his deed.

range. The book he reads here with such
concentration is Booth Tarkington's Penrod,

AUGUST 1914: BELGIAN VILLAGERS FLEE BEFORE THE GERMAN ADVANCE GUARD.

GERMANY INVADES BELGIUM

The first days in August the German armies invaded Belgium and pressed toward Paris. On
August 5 President Wilson announced that the attitude of the United States in the conflict
would be that of neutrality.

The German invasion was accepted by official America; it was accepted by Theodore
Roosevelt. "When giants arc engaged in a death wrestle," he wrote in The Outlook on
August 22, 1914, "as they reel to and fro they are certain to trample on whomever gets in
the way of either of the huge straining combatants." Roosevelt held that the invasion was
justified as a strategic necessity. At the outset of the European war Roosevelt referred to the
Germans as "a stern, virile and masterful people, a people entitled to hearty respect for
their patriotism and far-seeking self-devotion"— for whom one could have nothing but
"praise and admiration."

He did not censure the Germans for their destruction of Louvain and the irreplaceable
library. He did not raise his voice against the German bombardment of Antwerp. He felt

598

THE GERMAN ARMY MARCHES THROUGH THE DESERTED STREETS OF BRUSSELS.

that Americans had "not the slightest responsibility" for what happened in Belgium, even
though the country on the whole sympathized with that state. "Nevertheless this sympathy
is compatible with full knowledge of the unwisdom of uttering a single word of official pro-
test unless we are prepared to make the protest effective; and only the clearest and most
urgent national duty would ever justify us in deviating from our rule of neutrality and non-
interference."

A year later — in 191 5— when he published his first war book, Roosevelt altered the above
passage. By that time he opposed Wilson's neutrality policy; by that time he was convinced
that America must pay the penalty for its "supine inaction" by forfeiting the right to do
anything on behalf of peace for the Belgians.

Roosevelt was honest about both passages. He felt strongly about them. His emotions
underwent a change as American public opinion changed. With the continuation of the
war, Roosevelt-— along with his fellow countrymen— was lined up behind the Allied cause.

599

FIGHTING BOSSISM

THE BARNES TRIAL

Before the elections in 1914,
Roosevelt tried to unite the two
opposing wings of his party behind
an honest gubernatorial candidate
for New York. Attacking the
state's Republican boss, William
Barnes, Roosevelt said that he
was as crooked as his Democratic
counterpart and asserted that
"the two bosses will always be
found on the same side openly or
covertly, giving one another such
support as can with safety be
rendered." Barnes initiated a libel
suit against Roosevelt next day.

600

A DEPLORABLE

TWO HOSTILE CARTOONS, drawn by the
master craftsman Rollin Kirby for the New York
World. The top one appeared in the newspaper on
April 1 2, 1 9 1 5, the bottom one was printed on April 24.

* ' ^v,..:^v;j«^
•' ' :VcWa^

: •••'"^'•'v7

IT WAS A SPECTACULAR TRIAL that started in
April 1915 in Syracuse, New York, keeping the coun-
try spellbound. Roosevelt was on the stand for hours,
weathering the attacks and cross-examination of
Barnes's attorneys. At times he burst out in tirades and
the judge had to stop him. During a cross-examination
he firmly asserted that during his presidential years he
compromised much less than did President Lincoln.

LEAVING THE COURTHOUSE in Syracuse dur-
ing the Barnes trial with his counsel, Oliver D. Burden.

The Barnes attorney took this up. "You stand by

righteousness, do you not?" he asked.
"I do," answered Roosevelt.
"With due regard to opportunism . . .?"
"No, sir, not when it comes to righteousness."
"Does not your last answer state that?"
"It does not, sir. I say I believe emphatically that

you must have a due regard for opportunism in the

choice of the time and methods for making the attack.

But you must stand for righteousness, whether you

are going to be supported or not."

Boss Barnes lost the case. The jury believed

Roosevelt's remarks were just, and acquitted him.

601

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THE SINKING OF THE LUSITANIA on May 7,

1915, outraged the American people. Theodore
Roosevelt demanded firm action, but the country
was behind President Wilson, who advocated pa-
tience. America had no desire to embark on a war,
however strong the provocations were.

The country on the whole sympathized with the
Allies, although the large German population and
some of the other foreign-borns were for the German
cause. Wilson and Congress, sensing the country's
attitude, pleaded for time. The President embarked
on a lengthy diplomatic correspondence with Ger-
many. On May 13, on June 9, and again on July 21
he dispatched notes demanding from the German
government an outspoken disavowal of the Lusitania's
destruction and a pledge that attacks on unresisting
non-combatants would cease. When the answer of the
Germans proved "very unsatisfactory," the President
warned that the sinking of unarmed merchant vessels
would be regarded by the United States as a "deliber-
ately unfriendly" act — an open threat of war. Wil-
son's diplomatic correspondence brought results. For
about a year, while the notes went to and fro between
the two nations, Germany refrained from attack-
ing merchant vessels without warning. During that
time the horror of unrestricted submarine warfare
was lifted and the precarious peace maintained.

WILSON AND HIS HELPERS. A cartoon by Rollin
Kirby (July 13, 1915) picturing William Jennings
Bryan and Roosevelt "helping the President."

AN ENGLISH ADVERTISEMENT

And a German warning in the same column
of the New York Herald of May 1, 1915.

"MURDER ON THE HIGH SEAS" was Roosevelt's angry comment on the sinking of
the British mailship Lusitania when German submarines torpedoed her on May 7, 1915, off
Kinsdale Head on the Irish coast. Of 1918 persons aboard the liner, only 726 were saved.
Among the 114 Americans who lost their lives were sportsman Alfred Gwynne Vanderbilt,
theatrical producer Charles Frohman, dramatist Charles Klein, author filbert Hubbard.

Roosevelt pleaded for strong action, asking for the seizure of all interned German ships
and the prohibition of commerce with Germany. "I do not believe that the firm assertion
of our rights means war, but, in any event, it is well to remember there are things worse
than war."

Three days after the sinking of the Lusitania, Wilson spoke in Philadelphia on American
ideals. "The example of America must be the example not merely of peace because it will
not fight, but of peace because peace is the healing and elevating influence of the world and
strife is not/' said he. "There is such a thing as a nation being so right that it does not
need to convince others by force that it is right . . . There is such a thing as a man being
too proud to fight."

Wilson's phrase was taken up by his enemies, who attacked him with renewed vigor. "What
a pity Theodore Roosevelt is not President," headlined the New York Herald. Roosevelt ad-
vocated preparedness, so America should be ready in the event of war, but neither Wilson
nor Congress would accept such a policy. It was argued that preparedness would mean the
end of neutrality, and the country was not yet ready for war.

Roosevelt denounced Wilson as "the pacifist hero" whose followers were "professional
pacifists, the flubdubs and the mollycoddles." Ignoring these exaggerated attacks, Wilson
said: "The way to treat an adversary like Roosevelt is to gaze at the stars over his head."

603

URGING PREPAREDNESS. The leader of the preparedness movement was Roosevelt's
old friend General Leonard Wood, under whom he served in the Spanish-American War,
The General, supported by private organizations, was the head of a summer training camp
at Plattsburg, N. Y., where students, businessmen, and other volunteers received a short
military training. All four of Roosevelt's sons were there for instruction. The widely publi-
cized but not too effectual "Plattsburg idea" served well in one respect — it infused the
young men of America with the thought that sooner or later they would have to fight.

On August 25, 1915, when the picture below was taken, Roosevelt came to Plattsburg
at the invitation of General Wood to address the young men in the camp. He made a re-
strained speech, without attacking Wilson. But in the evening, as he left the camp, he told
the newspapermen that the people of the country should stand behind the President only
when he was right, but against him when he was wrong — a dangerous idea which, if fol-
lowed, could only lead to anarchy.

Roosevelt — much to the amusement of the newspapermen, who reported it next day —
pointed to a little dog that ran into him but retreated and remained quiet. "I like him,"
Roosevelt said with sarcastic intent; "his present attitude is strictly one of neutrality."

604

NOT A CANDIDATE

A photograph taken at Oyster Bay during the
1916 camoaiffn bv Gonkwriffht and Winn. N.Y.

ROLLIN KIRBY, CARTOONIST OF THE NEW YORK SUN, UPHELD WOODROW WILSON

THE 1916 CAMPAIGN brought the Progressives
back into the Republican fold. Roosevelt somewhat
reluctantly endorsed Hughes and campaigned
against Wilson, the man who "kept us out of war."
In his speeches Roosevelt charged that Wilson

would never stand up to the Germans. He said tha
if he had been President when the Lusitania wa
sunk, he would have seized every German vessel in
terned in American waters. Reporters questions
Hughes whether he would have done the same, bu

606

AND ATTACKED CHARLES EVANS HUGHES AS THE MOUTHPIECE OF THE KAISER.

"the gray iceberg" gave an evasive answer.

Roosevelt's last speech was an emotional appeal
against Wilson. "There should be shadows now at
Shadow Lawn, [the home of Wilson in New Jersey]
the shadows of the men, women, and children who

have risen from the ooze of the ocean bottom and
from graves in foreign lands; the shadows of the
helpless whom Mr. Wilson did not dare protect lest
he might have to face danger. ..."

It was of no avail; Wilson won the election.

607

AMERICA DECLARES WAR

The last day of January 1917 Count von Bernstorff,
the German Ambassador, notified the State Depart-
ment that his country had instituted zones in the
Mediterranean and around the British Isles, and
that within these zones all neutral shipping would be
destroyed if it carried contraband. One clearly
marked American vessel would be allowed to sail
weekly in each direction. As the United States would
not tolerate such restriction, the German Ambassa-
dor was handed his passport. On February 3 diplo-
matic relations between the two countries came to
an end.

Three weeks later came the news of an intercepted
telegram to Mexico, in which Germany offered the
states of Texas, Arizona, and New Mexico if Mexico
would invade the United States.

In March, German submarines sank American
vessels without warning. This meant war. On April
2 President Wilson told Congress that a state of
war existed between the United States and Germany.

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APRIL 6, 1917: CONGRESS VOTES WAR

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APRIL 2, 1917: WILSON'S WAR ADDRESS

608

THREE DAYS AFTER AMERICA ENTERED THE WAR, Roosevelt saw President Wilson in Wash-
ington and asked him for permission to recruit a volunteer division. For the Colonel, time seemed to stand
still. Nineteen years had gone by since he had led the Rough Riders against the Spaniards in Cuba, and
now— nineteen years later — he desired to lead a regiment against the Germans in France.

The interview with Wilson was paved by the young man who had married Roosevelt's niece and who
was now Assistant Secretary of the P^avy— Franklin Delano Roosevelt. He spoke to Secretary of War
Newton D. Baker, and Baker called on Roosevelt at Alice Longworth's Washington home. Roosevelt
talked of his hopes to go to war. "I am aware," he said, "that I have not had enough experience to lead
a division myself. But I have selected the most experienced officers from the regular army for my staff."
Ail he wanted was to fight.

On April 9 Roosevelt went to the White House and had an hour's talk with Wilson. He complimented
the President on his war message, and the two men had a friendly talk. Wilson was charmed. "There is a
sweetness about him that is very compelling. You can't resist the man," said he to his secretary, Tumulty,
after the visitor left. As to Roosevelt's request the President was noncommittal. Roosevelt, who declared
that he would never oppose Wilson if he were allowed to go to Europe, told newspapermen on his leaving
the White House that he had great hopes the President would acquiesce to his request.

Yet no word came from Wilson. When the governor of Louisiana interceded on Roosevelt's behalf, the
President replied: "Colonel Roosevelt is a splendid man and a patriotic citizen . . . but he is not a military
leader. His experience in military life has been extremely short. He and many of the men with him are
too old to render effective service, and ... he as well as others have shown intolerance of discipline."

610

THE YANKS ARE COMING.

American troops marching into Europe
to fisrht on the side of the Allies.

SPEAKING AT PATRIOTIC MEETINGS. He made speeches under the auspices of the
National Security League, he spoke on Americanism, he spoke for the Red Cross, he spoke
for everything that helped the war effort. In September 1917 he journeyed west, and spoke
at large rallies in Kansas City, Chicago, and St. Paul, urging a determined and speedy offen-
sive. He attacked Wilson and the administration for America's military inadequacy. During
this period he often sounded like a demagogue. At times his speeches embraced a political
philosophy to which a later generation gave the name "fascism."

His exaggerations at times bordered on intolerance. Thus, he spoke against foreign-bom
revolutionaries, as against socialists and radicals. His speeches, writes John M. Blum, "fed the
spirit that expressed itself in lynchings, amateur witch hunts, intolerance of every kind. And
he mixed his hateful talk with his awful cult of purging society by sacrifice in war and his

ardent advocacy of compulsory peacetime industrial service for young men and women

He disgraced not just his own but his nation's reputation." It was a sorrowful spectacle.

612

THE AMERICANS IN FRANCE. On May 18, 1917, President Wilson ordered an expe-
ditionary force of one division under command of General John J. Pershing to proceed to
France. On June 13 the first American combat troops sailed from New York, arriving in
Europe twelve days later. And while prohibition went into effect in South Dakota, while
more than 100 Negroes were killed and wounded in a race riot at St. Louis, while in the
shipyards of Hoboken and New York the machinists and boiler-makers began a strike for a
$4.50 minimum daily wage, General Pershing marched with American troops through the
streets of Paris on July 4. Two days later Pershing cabled his superiors in Washington:
"Plans should contemplate sending over at least one million men by next May." Yet by
January 1, 1918, General Pershing had only one depot division and four combat divisions
in France. Again he urged the War Department to send more troops and more equipment.
"The Allies are very weak and we must come to their relief in this year, 1918. The year
after may be too late." Roosevelt's four sons were with the American Expeditionary Force.

613

QUENTIN, the youngest of the Roosevelt chil-
dren, was killed in an aerial battle on July 14,
1918, his plane crashing behind the German lines.

HIS YOUNGEST SON— A WAR CASUALTY

Quentin's death broke his father's spirit. His friend
Hermann Hagedorn, who saw him the very day the
word came of Quentin's death, noted in his diary
that suddenly the boy in Roosevelt had died. From
then on until the end of his life — so Roosevelt con-
fessed to another friend — keeping up the fight was a
constant effort.

Roosevelt's deeply moving tribute to Quentin
contained unforgettable lines: "Only those are fit to
live who do not fear to die; and none are fit to die
who have shrunk from the joy of life," he wrote,
"Both life and death are parts of the same Great
Adventure. Never yet was worthy adventure worthily
carried through by the man who put his personal
safety first." Roosevelt wrote of the duty, service and
sacrifice expected of all the American people. "Pride
is the portion only of those who know bitter sorrow
or the foreboding of bitter sorrow. But all of us who
give service, and stand ready for sacrifice, are the
torchbearers. We run with the torches until we
fall. . . ."

These lines came from his heart. It was his testa-
ment. The days of exuberance had gone, life be-
came heavy; his own Great Adventure was closing.

QUENTIN'S GRAVE IN FRANCE, not far from
the enemy land where his strafed plane was found.

614

HONORING QUENTIN'S DEATH— a touching
cartoon by John McCutcheon in the Chicago Tribune.

THE SUNKEN ROAD AT MISSAYAUX BOIS photographs differ! They could almost have been
Haifa century before— in 1862— it was the sunken taken on the same day, not fifty-six years apart,
road at Fredericksburg (see p. 35); now— in 1918— Two generations had gone by, yet men were still un-
it is a sunken road in France. How little the two able to settle their disputes by peaceful means.

WILSON'S FOURTEEN POINTS

On January 8, 1918, Wilson ap-
peared before Congress and deliv-
ered his Fourteen Points speech,
committing the United States to
take responsibility in the affairs of
the world, and participate in solving
the problems of Europe. Wilson's
points reiterated his belief in open
diplomacy, freedom of the seas, re-
moval of trade barriers, reduction
of armaments, impartial adjustment
of colonial claims; his fourteenth
point asked for a League of Nations.
In the fall of 1918 when Ger-
many saw that defeat was inevita-
ble, it asked for peace negotiations
based on these fourteen points.

615

THE ROOSEVELT HOME AT OYSTER BAY. If the rooms of his childhood (see page
48) were ornate and elaborate, so were the rooms at Sagamore Hill, where he spent his adult
years. The walls of his comfortable study were lined with innumerable books and family
photographs, with a large oil painting of his father facing the desk at which he worked.

THE TROPHY ROOM, with antlers, elephant
tusks, and other glorious mementoes of his hunting
excursions, was added to the main house in 1904.

THERE WERE FIREPLACES in almost every
room of Sagamore Hill. Roosevelt loved them, and
he liked the feel of the bearskin rugs on the floors.

616

CHAPTER XLIII

THE END OF THE ROAD

"We have no selfish ends to serve. We desire no conquest, no dominion. We
seek no indemnities for ourselves. We are but one of the champions of the
rights of mankind." This was President Wilson, expressing the hope that
at the end of the most terrible war in history mankind might expect a new era
of peace and international justice. In January of 1918 he translated this
aspiration into concrete terms with his Fourteen Points. He called for "open
convenants of peace, openly arrived at," for absolute freedom of the seas, for
removal of trade barriers and reduction of armaments "to the lowest point con-
sistent with domestic safety," for a policy of self-determination in redrawing
national boundaries, and for an association of nations which would guarantee
"political independence and territorial integrity to great and small nations alike."

Wilson's idealistic program could not survive in the bitter crucible of hatred
and greed that was Europe after four years of devastating war. Still, at the time
he proclaimed the Fourteen Points they were accepted as Allied war aims, and
it was on their basis that Germany surrendered. To Wilson, to the vanquished
Germans, to subject nationalities who found self-determination a magic word,
the Fourteen Points were regarded as a solemn compact. To the hard-bitten
and vengeance-ridden politicians in Europe they were propaganda weapons.

Roosevelt considered the Fourteen Points nothing more than "fourteen
scraps of paper." He told Cabot Lodge that "the language of the four-
teen points ... is neither straightforward nor plain, but if construed in its
probable sense many and possibly most of these fourteen points are thoroly
mischievous and if made the basis of a peace, such peace would represent not
the unconditional surrender of Germany but the conditional surrender of the
United States." He wanted to "dictate peace by the hammering guns and not
chat about peace to the accompaniment of the clicking of typewriters." On a
speaking tour in the fall of 1918 he told a Nebraska audience: "The only way
to make a Hun feel friendly is to knock him out. Don't hit the man soft, because
he will come back and hit you hard. Put this war through right, so that no
nation will look cross-eyed at you." And while he would reluctantly accept
the idea of a League of Nations, he would never accept it as a substitute for
the preparation of the nation's own defense. "Uncle Sam must, in the last
analysis, rely on himself for his safety and not on scraps of paper signed
by others," he said, and to Rider Haggard, the well-known English author,
he wrote in December: "I don't put much faith in the League of Nations, or
any corresponding universal cure-all."

He was urged to run for the governorship of New York, but he refused. "I

619
NOVEMBER 11, 1918: THE WAR WAS OVER.

And while crowds celebrated the Armistice in New

hate not to do as you, and Henry, and my other friends request," he wrote to
William Howard Taft, with whom the old friendly relations again prevailed,
"but Will Hays feels as strongly as I do that it is not wise for me under exist-
ing conditions to run for Governor of New York."

He threw himself into the campaign of the midterm election with great
vigor, violently assailing the President and his policies. For him Wilson was
"at heart a pacifist, cold blooded and without a single scruple of conviction."
In his Carnegie Hall speech a week before the election Roosevelt said: "We
Republicans pledge ourselves to stand by the President as long as he stands
by the American people, and to part company from him at any point where
in our judgment he does not stand by the people. This is the people's govern-
ment, this is the people's war, and the peace that follows shall be the people's
peace."

But the vigor was only in his voice, not in his body. He was now sick,
plagued by recurrent attacks of sciatic rheumatism. The next day he was back
in bed and stayed there for weeks except for a few hours on November 5, when
he dressed and went to the polling place to cast his vote. The result of
the election elated him. "We did an unparalleled thing," he wrote to his friend
Rudyard Kipling in England, "and took away the Congress from him [Wilson],
on the issue that we stood for forcing the Germans to make an unconditional
surrender. I took a certain sardonic amusement in the fact that whereas four
years ago, to put it mildly, my attitude was not popular, I was now the one
man whom they insisted upon following and whose statements were taken as
the platform."

He dictated a letter to his eldest son, but his pains were such that he was
not able to sign it. His wife noted in a postscript: "Father is flat on his back
with his gout . . . having a horrid, suffering time." For the next seven weeks
he was confined in the Roosevelt Hospital in New York. The doctors warned
him that he might be confined to a wheel chair for the rest of his life. "All
right!" was his answer. "I can work that way, too."

When newspapers speculated about his future and when the New York
Tribune flatly predicted that he would be "the Republican candidate for Presi-
dent in 1920," he said: "All that is near to me in the male line is in France.
If they do not come back what is the Presidency to me?" He was now tired
and burdened by his age. "I feel as though I were a hundred years old, and
had never been young."

Still, he showed a keen interest in political issues. He watched the Commu-
nist revolution with alarm. On March 11, 1918, he wrote to his son Kermit:
"The Bolshevists seem to have absolutely ruined Russia. Apparently the Rus-
sians for the time being lost all national spirit. For centuries they have cruelly
persecuted the Jews, and now the Jew leadership in Russia has been a real
nemesis for the Russians." Two months later he said to William Allen White:
"At the moment I am inclined to think Bolshevism a more serious menace to
world democracy than any species of capitalism." And a day before the Armis-
tice he told his son Theodore that "the Republicans must understand that

620

their chance of becoming the successful anti-Bolshevist party depends upon
their being sane but thoroughgoing progressives. Mere standpattism, or in
other words, the Romanov attitude, ensures disaster."

Early in December, Wilson sailed for France to make sure that his ideals
should be written into the peace treaty. The whole basis of his personal leader-
ship of the American delegation was his assumption that he would be able to
dictate the terms of peace.

Strangely enough, the same people who came to worship Wilson when he
reached European soil were not ready to accept the kind of peace he wanted
to bring them, nor were their political leaders ready to accept the magnani-
mous settlements envisioned in the Fourteen Points. Lloyd George, the British
Prime Minister, had recently won a general election by promising to "hang
the Kaiser" and to make Germany pay the full cost of the Allied war effort.
Georges Clemenceau, the French Premier, desired to grind Germany forever
into the dust. He said: "Mr. Wilson bores me with his Fourteen Points. Why,
God Almighty has only ten!" And Orlando, the Prime Minister of Italy, was
interested mainly in territorial loot.

It was cynicism, bitterness, and a desire for "peace with a vengeance"
which prevailed when the peace conference began in January. By then Roose-
velt was back at Sagamore Hill, exhausted and in pain, spending the better
part of each day in bed. Mrs. Roosevelt wrote to her eldest son that at dusk
"he watched the dancing flames and spoke of the happiness of being home. . . .
I think he had made up his mind that he would have to suffer for some time
to come and with his high courage had adjusted himself to bear it." Once when
she was leaving the room he looked up and said to her: "I wonder if you will
ever know how I love Sagamore Hill."

On January 6, 1919 — while President Wilson was traveling toward Versailles
— Theodore Roosevelt died. Death came to him quietly. Until the last he
worked, dictated letters, reviewed an ornithological book, wrote editorials for
the Kansas City Star. To his bedridden sister, Mrs. Cowles, he sent the message:
"I feel like a faker because my troubles are not to be mentioned in the same
breath with yours." To editor Ogden Reid of the New York Tribune he
protested against an editorial: "For Heaven's sake never allude to Wilson as
an idealist or militaire or altruist. He is a doctrinaire when he can be so with
safety to his personal ambition and he is always utterly and coldly selfish. He
hasn't a touch of idealism in him."

An hour before midnight on January 5, after laying aside the proofs of an
editorial he had corrected, he said to his valet: "James, please put out
the light." They were his last words. Shortly after four the next morning he
died in his sleep. "Death," said Vice- President Marshall, "had to take him
sleeping. For if Roosevelt had been awake, there would have been a fight."

His son Archibald cabled to his brothers, who were serving with the Army
in France:

"THE OLD LION IS DEAD."

621

WILSON, THE PEACEMAKER

JULY 20, 1917: The blindfolded President draws a
draft number meaning military service for 4557
Americans, one man from each registration district.

OCTOBER 12, 1918: The President marches in
New York's Liberty Loan parade. On Wilson's
right are Dr. Grayson and his secretary, Tumulty.

DECEMBER 25, 1918: Wilson, accompanied by
General Pershing, visited the American Expedi-
tionary Force and received a rousing welcome.

DECEMBER 26, 1918: Wilson recrossed th<
Channel to pay a visit to England. At London'
Charing Cross station he was met by King George V

THE PRESIDENT SAILS TO EUROPE

Woodrow Wilson wanted to make certain that the ideals embodied in his Fourteen Points
would become part of the peace treaty. In December 1918 he sailed to France to be pres-
ent at Versailles, where the peace negotiations were to begin.

Roosevelt was angry, his hatred against Wilson without bounds. Only a few weeks earlier
the country had elected a Republican Congress. To Roosevelt this meant a clear repudia-
tion of the President's policies. Immobilized in a New York hospital, where he was being
treated for his rheumatic condition, he issued a statement. "Mr. Wilson," said Roosevelt,

622

DECEMBER 4, 1918: Wilson, with the Ameri-
can delegates to the Peace Conference in Paris,
crosses the ocean on the S. S. George Washington.

DECEMBER 13, 1918: Arriving at Brest, where
President Poincare" met him. The French President
accompanied Wilson on the ensuing journey to Paris.

DECEMBER 26, 1918: A tremendous crowd filled
the square before London's Buckingham Palace
and cheered lustily for the American President.

DECEMBER 31, 1918: King George V, Queen
Mary, and their daughter, pose with the Wilsons
before they leave England to return to France.

"has no authority whatever to speak for the American people at this time. His leadership
has just been emphatically repudiated by them. Mr. Wilson and his Fourteen Points and
his four supplementary points and all his utterances every which way have cfcased to
have any shadow of right to be accepted as expressive of the will of the American people."
Still, when Wilson reached the shores of Europe, he was greeted by the long-suffering
people as no American had been greeted before him. He was the bearer of glad tidings of
a better life. "The mass of European peasantry," said an observer, "looked forward to his
arrival as men looked in medieval times to the second coming of Christ."

623

HE WORKED UNTIL THE END. His mind was
clear, his thinking powers unimpaired. He wrote
articles, he wrote letters, he kept in touch with his
friends. He was occupied with political matters; he
fought Wilson till the last.

Three days before his death he wrote to Carroll E.
Armstrong in Clinton, Iowa, "that unlike Mr.
Wilson I have never erred in intellectual honesty
and moral straightforwardness" and "that as regards
Mr. Wilson I never erred but once and that was on
the occasion in question, when for the first sixty days
after the outbreak of the World War I, I heartily
supported him." Republicans once more began to
look upon him as their next presidential candidate.

If Roosevelt had lived, he would most probably
have been nominated in 1920 and would then cer-
tainly have been elected. How different the course
of history would have run with him as President!

HIS LAST MESSAGE to Richard Hurd was read at
an all-Amcrican benefit concert a day before his death.

HIS LAST WRITTEN WORDS, found at his
table: a memo to see Will Hays, the Chairman of
the Republican National Committee, and tell him
that "he must go to Washington for 10 days; see
Senate & House; prevent split on domestic policies."

624

THE ROOM WHERE THEODORE ROOSEVELT DIED

The bedroom at Oyster Bay where, in the early hours of January 6, 1919, he breathed his
last. The night before, the local doctor was called to treat his inflamed joints. Roosevelt told
him: "I feel as though my heart was going to stop beating."

Ever since the early part of 1918 he had been ill. An abscess on his thigh and abscesses
in his ears caused him severe pains, and he had to go to the hospital. "My old Brazilian
trouble, both the fever and abscesses recurred and I had to go under the knife/' he wrote
to his son Kermit, then with the American Army in France. The operation left his balance
impaired, he had to learn to walk anew, and he lost the hearing in his left ear. He suffered,
but he took the pains without complaint. "The Doctors think I will be all right in the end,"
he said. "I hope so; but I am ahead of the game anyhow. Nobody ever packed more varie-
ties of fun and interest in the sixty years."

On October 27, 1918, he was sixty years old. Two weeks later, the day of the signing of
the Armistice, once more he had to return to the hospital. This time it was inflammatory
rheumatism. For Christmas he returned home. On January 5 he wrote his regular editorial
for the Kansas City Star. At eleven he asked his valet, "Please put out the light." They
were his last words. Soon after four the following morning he died in his sleep. The immedi-
ate cause of death was "malignant endocarditis and embolism in the coronary arteries."

625

THE NEW YORK WORLD'S FRONT PAGE JANUARY 7, 1919

FAREWELL!

"The long, long trail,"
Jay N. ("Ding") Dar-
ling's moving tribute to
Roosevelt, printed in the
Des Moines Register on
the day after his death.

626

Right:

HIS LAST LIKENESS

A bust by James Earle
Fraser, completed from
a mask which the sculp-
tor took the day follow-
ing Roosevelt's death.

THEODORE ROOSEVELT'S COFFIN IS CARRIED TO ITS FINAL RESTING PLACE.

TAFT AT THE FUNERAL

He had written to Roosevelt
when he heard of his sickness,
and friendly letters were ex-
changed. One day in 1918 Taft
entered Chicago's Blackstone
Hotel and, seeing Roosevelt in
the dining room, he opened his
arms. "Theodore, I am glad to
see you." Roosevelt asked Taft to
dine with him, and within min-
utes antagonism had faded away.

THE END OF THE ROAD. The coffin was lowered into the earth and covered; the min-
ister had said his prayers; the family and friends had gone. In the cold winter air a solitary
soldier stayed behind and stood guard over the remains of Theodore Roosevelt. .

Once, Roosevelt wrote to the poet Robinson: "There is not one among us, in whom a
devil does not dwell; at some time, on some point, that devil masters each of us; he who
has never failed has not been tempted; but the man who does in the end conquer, who does
painfully retrace the steps of his slipping, why he shows that he has been tried in the fire
and not found wanting. It is not having been in the Dark House, but having left it, that
counts. . . ." The Dark House was behind him now, as was life.

629

A VIEW OF THE CITY OF NEW YORK IN THE YEAR OF 1919-AT THE TIME

In 1919 about five and a half million people lived
in New York, four and three quarter millions more
than in 1858 (see p. 20), the year Theodore Roose-
velt was born. In the sixty years that spanned his
life, the city had made phenomenal progress; it was
now the largest in the world— larger even than

London. Thirty-eight per cent of the population was
foreign-born, coming from Russia, Italy, Germany,
Ireland, Austria, England, and Hungary, in that
order. Only two per cent of the city's inhabitants were
Negroes. In the description of the English journalist
W. L. George: "There is so much in the streets;

630

WHEN THEODORE ROOSEVELT DIED AT SAGAMORE HILL, OYSTER BAY

everything hurries— motor cars, street cars, rail-
way cars. In the restaurants endless vistas of napery
and crystal extend away. One goes up Broadway at
night to see the crowded colored signs of the movie
shows and the theatres twinkle and eddy, inviting,
clamorous, Babylonian! . . . New York is all the

cities. It is the giant city grouped about its colossal
forest of parallelepipeds of concrete and steel."
No less than 33,000 factories produced three bil-
lion dollars' worth of goods yearly; there were 1,500
hotels and just as many churches, over a hundred
hospitals, and 850 theaters, movies, and music halls.

631

PARK AVENUE, north from 84th Street. Six dec-
ades before — when Theodore Roosevelt was born —
this section was not yet developed; it was filled
with shanties inhabited by the poorest of the poor.
By 1919, however — the year of Roosevelt's death-
it had become one of the most fashionable residen-
tial areas of the city. As New York expanded, the
wealthy people moved uptown; it added to social pres-
tige to have a luxurious apartment on Park Avenue.

MADISON SQUARE, with the world's largest struc-
ture at the time of Theodore Roosevelt's death — the
Metropolitan Life Insurance Building. The 52-story
tower, reminiscent of the Campanile in Venice, was
700 feet high. The building's assessed value of
$15,550,000 was the greatest in the city.

The tower on the left, piercing dark into the
sky, ornamented Madison Square Garden. Next to it
is the Appellate Court and Dr. Parkhurst's church.

SIXTH AVENUE AND BROADWAY, north from
the 33rd Street platform of the elevated railway,
had some of the heaviest traffic in the busy city.

FIFTH AVENUE AND 42ND STREET. In the

middle of the street was New York's first traffic
tower, with a policeman directing the flow of cars.

632

PARK ROW, the home of the city's great news-
papers— the World, the Sun, the Tribune, the Times.
Running from Ann Street northeast to Chatham
Square, it skirted City Hall Park on the east. The dome
on the left was over the main post office; west of it
was Printing House Square, with the statue of Benja-
min Franklin. "This is Brobdingnag, the land of
giants," exclaimed a foreign visitor in awe. "Gigantic
chaos, that is the first feeling I had in New York."

GREENWICH AVENUE from 8th Street station in
winter dress, a photograph taken by Arthur D. Chap-
man, whose pictures of New York during the teens
belong to the best records of the city's life. This
street is like one in Berlin, Budapest, or Vienna,
with leisurely traffic and people not in a hurry.
So idyllic, it is hard to believe that this is New
York, "the wonderful, cruel, enchanting, bewilder-
ing, fatal, great city" — a description by O. Henry.

SEVENTH AVENUE AT 50TH STREET

The huge car barn was situated where today stands
the Roxy Theater, with the Hotel Taft to the left.

FIFTH AVENUE AT 48TH STREET

On the left is the Collegiate Church of St. Nicholas
and throngs of strolling worshipers on Easter Sunday.

633

THE LEADER OF THE FREE WORLD. President Woodrow Wilson at Versailles, ac-
knowledging the cheers of the crowds the very week that Theodore Roosevelt died in America.

TWELVE DAYS AFTER THEODORE ROOSEVELT'S DEATH the Peace Conference
met in Paris. On January 18, 1919, delegates of twenty-seven nations filed into the Clock
Room of the French Foreign Office for the opening session. Electing Georges Clcmenceau,
the Prime Minister of France, as their president, the making of a new world was begun.

634

A SHORT SELECTED BIBLIOGRAPHY

ROOSEVELT'S OWN WRITINGS

The Works of Theodore Roosevelt (National Edition,
ed. Hermann Hagedorn, New York, 1926), in 20
volumes, includes his literary output: his books, and
some of his addresses and articles.

Presidential Addresses (Review of Reviews Co.,
1910), in 8 volumes, contains his important political
pronouncements.

His magazine articles are in The Outlook, the Metro-
politan Magazine, and other publications.

His An Autobiography (1926) is an attempt to re-
count the events of his life.

The Letters of Theodore Roosevelt, in 8 volumes, a
superbly edited work (ed. Eking E. Morrison, John
M. Blum, and John J. Buckley, Cambridge, 1951),
contains most of his important letters. His corre-
spondence of some 100,000 pieces is in the Theodore
Roosevelt Collection of the Library of Congress. It
was microfilmed for the Theodore Roosevelt Collec-
tion of the Harvard College Library.

Other letter collections which preceded the defini-
tive edition are: Letters from Theodore Roosevelt to Anna
Roosevelt Cowles (1924), Theodore Roosevelt's Letters to
His Children (1919), Letters to Kermit from Theodore
Roosevelt (1946), and Selections from the Correspondence of
Theodore Roosevelt and Henry Cabot Lodge (2 vols., 1925).

REMINISCENCES OF THE FAMILY

His daughter, Alice Longworth, wrote Crowded
Hours (1933). His son Kermit published an excellent
account of the South American expedition, The
Happy Hunting Grounds (1920). His sister Corinne
Robinson penned My Brother Theodore Roosevelt (New
York, 1921). His daughter-in-law, Eleanor Roose-
velt, wrote Day Before Yesterday (New York, 1959), a
biography of Theodore, Jr., with many amusing
sidelights on her father-in-law.

BIOGRAPHIES AND OTHER WORKS

The official biography, Theodore Roosevelt and His
Time, by Joseph J. Bishop (2 vols. New York, 1920),
is what one expects of it. Lord Charnwood's Theodore
Roosevelt (1923) leaves much to be desired. Hermann
Hagedorn's Roosevelt in the Bad Lands (Boston, 1921)
is the best work on that period of Roosevelt's life.
Theodore Roosevelt, A Biography, by Henry F. Pringle
(1931), is entertaining, but not always fair.v

During the last few years a number of books have
come out which have great merit.

Carleton Putnam's projected four- volume work
will be—when completed— without question the out-
standing Roosevelt biography. So far only one vol-
ume, The Formative Tears 1858-1886 (New York,
1958), has appeared.

Edward Wagenknecht's The Seven Worlds of Theo-
dore Roosevelt (1958) is eminently readable.

George E. Mo wry 's The Era of Theodore Roosevelt
1900-1912 (New York, 1958) is a scholarly account
in the best tradition of Roosevelt's political life. Pro-
fessor Mowry's previous book, Theodore Roosevelt and
the Progressive Movement (Wisconsin, 1946), is a superb
thesis on the subject.

Howard K. Beale's Theodore Roosevelt and the Rise
of America to World Power (1956) is excellent.

Hermann Hagedorn's The Roosevelt Family of Saga-
more Hill (New York, 1954) draws a warm and vivid
picture of the Roosevelts' home life.

John Morton Blum's slim volume, The Republican
Roosevelt (Cambridge, 1954), is a brilliant study. The
same author's essays in The Letters of Theodore Roose-
velt are the best of their kind.

BOOKS BY THOSE WHO KNEW HIM

Everyone who was near Roosevelt wrote about him.
Reminiscences of politicians and writers are legion.

Mark Sullivan pictured him amusingly in chap-
ters of his five-volume social history, Our Times (1926-
1935). Archibald W. Butt, in Tafl and Roosevelt: The
Intimate Letters of Archie Butt, Military Aide (1930),
reveals the relation of the two Presidents.

Some of the other notable memoirs: Richard
Harding Davis, Notes of a War Correspondent (1910);
Chauncey M. Depew, My Memories of Eighty Tears
(1922); Joseph B. Foraker, Notes of a Busy Life
(1916); John Hay, Letters and Diaries (1908); Herman
Henry Kohlsaat, From McKinley to Harding (1923);
Robert M. La Follette, Autobiography (1911); Thomas
C. Platt, The Autobiography of Thomas Collier Platt
(1910); George Haven Putnam, Memories of a Pub-
lisher (1915); Henry L. Stoddard, As I Knew Them
(1927); Oscar Straus, Under Four Administrations
(1922); Mrs. William Howard Taft, Recollections of
Full Tears (1914); William Allen White, Marks in a
Pageant (1928); Owen Wister, The Story of a Friendship
(1930).

635

INDEX

636

Abbott, Lawrence P., 521
Adams, Henry, 243, 369, 457
Aguinaldo, Emilio, 323, 355 f.,

387 f., 390, 392
Alaska, 389, 394, 399
Aldrich, Nelson W, 247, 472 f., 480,

544

Algeciras Conference, 447, 593
Amador, Manuel, 404 f, 471
Anthony, Susan B., 141
Arthur, Chester A., 178, 409
Astor family, 175, 425, 430

Baer, George F., 371, 375, 383
Baker, Newton D., 595, 610
Baker, Ray Stannard, 476
Ballinger, Richard A., 523, 542
Barnes, William, 600 f.
Beecher, Henry Ward, 202
Belknap, William, 127, 131
Bell, Alexander Graham, 143

Bell, John, 30 f.

Bergh, Henry, 51

Beveridge, Albert J., 356, 523, 548,
553, 545

Big Stick policy, 339, 396, 397 f.

Bigelow, W. Sturgis, 295

Blaine, James G., 169, 178 f., 200 f.,
243, 251

Booth, John Wilkes, 29, 42

Boxer uprising, 389

Brady, Mathew, 72

Breckinridge, John C., 31

Bristow, Joseph, 545

Brownsville affair (1906), 495

Bryan, William Jennings, 255, 271,
335, 346, 349, 353, 410, 492 f.,
501,503,551,577,602

Bryn Mawr, 575, 580

Buchanan, James, 13

Bulloch, Anna, 26, 28

Bulloch, Irvine Stephens, 26 f., 77,
115

Bulloch, James Dunwody, 26 f., 77,
107, 115

Bulloch, Martha Stewart, 26

Bunau-Varilla, Philippe, 403 ff.

Burnaide, Gen. Ambrose, 29, 35

Bush, Charles Green, 278 f., 340,
352, 402

Butt, Archie, 514, 543

Cady, Elizabeth, 141

Canada, boundary dispute, 394,
399

Cannon, Joseph ("Uncle Joe"), 542,
545, 560

Carnegie, Andrew, 425, 457, 514,
526, 544

Carpetbaggers, 64 f., 69 f.

Castle Garden: in 1880, 172; immi-
gration station, 16, 56; social cen-
ter, 16, 56

Cervera, Admiral, 296, 307

Chandler, Zachariah, 139 f.

Chapman, Arthur D., 633

Cherries, George K., 586, 587

Chicago, Haymarket Hot, 232 f.

Churchill, Winston S., 325

Civil Rights Bill, 63

Civil War, 13 f., 28 f., 33 ff., 41 f.;

aftermath of, 61 ff.
Clapp, Moses £., 545
Clemenceau, Georges, 621, 634
Cleveland, Grover, 169, 183 f., 198,

201 f., 255 ff., 245, 256 ff., 264,

271,544
Coal strike (1902), 370, 371, 375,

383 ff.
Colombia, and Panama Canal,

402 ff

Conkling, Roscoe, 169, 178
Conservation, 473, 477
Cookc,Jay & Co., 125
Cortelyou, George B.,410,411, 412,

418, 482

Cory, J. Campbell, cartoon, 548
Cowles, Anna. See Roosevelt, Anna
Coxey's "Army," 258, 262 f.
Crane, Murray, 380
Crank, John, shoots T.R., 572
Credit Mobilier, 104 f., 108
Cromwell, William N., 403
Cummins, Albert, 545
Cunningham, cartoon, 516
Curtis, George W, 19, 202
Cutler, Arthur W, 133, 136, 192
Czolgosz, Leon, 356 f, 361

Dalrymple, Louis, his cartoons,
248,250,261,420

Dana, Charles Anderson, 251

Darling, Jay N. ("Ding"), cartoon,
626

Davenport, Homer, his cartoons,
340,419,514

Davis, Henry G., 410, 417

Davis, Jefferson, 31

Davis, Richard Harding, 243, 296,
314,329

Debs, Eugene V., 264, 501, 573

DeLesscps, Ferdinand, 403, 406,
465

De Ldme, Enrique, 282

Democratic party, 31, 61, 65, 105,
139 f., 146 ff, 169, 201 f., 225 ff,
245, 252 f., 280, 335, 351, 410 f.,
492 f., 501, 503, 568, 576 f., 594

De Mores, Marquis, 203, 222 f.

Depew, Chauncey M., 236, 333,
3f6, 410, 495, 555

Dcwey, Adm. George, 283, 290,
295, 300 f, 323, 338, 387, 398, 494

Dickens, Charles, 497

Dolliver, Jonathan, 523, 545

Donahey, James, his cartoons, 535,
545

Douglas, Stephen A., 13 f., 31

Dow, Wilmot, 204, 220 f.

Dunne, Finley Peter, 595; "Mr.
Dooley" on constitutional rights,
389; on 1912 Republican con-
vention, 567; on T.R., 297, 335,
370

Edison, Thomas Alva, 170 f., 423 f.
Edward VII, 447; funeral of, 513 f.,

528

Eisenhower, Dwight D., 325
Eliot, Charles, 88 f.
Elkins Act (1903), 409, 472
Emerson, Ralph Waldo, 87, 120
Employers' Liability Act (1906),

491
Evans, Adm. Robley D., 490

Fairbanks, Charles W., 417

Farming: growth after Civil War,
86, 99; in 1870s, 125, 126, 131;
unrest in 1880s, 226; formation
of the Grange, 126, 131, 226;
Farmers' Alliances (1880), 226,
255; Interstate Commerce Act,
226; hardship in 1890s, 258, 544;
irrigation, 477

Ferris, Joe, 203, 208, 223

Ferris, Sylvanus, 203, 206, 208,
211 ff.

Fiala, Anthony, 586

Fillmore, Millard, 409

Financial crises: in 1869, 106; in
1873-78, 125, 128; in 1892-96,
257 f.; in 1907, 473, 482 f

Fish, Hamilton, 107, 147

Fish, Mrs. Stuyvesant, 425, 460

Fisk, "Jim," 103, 106

Florhi, cartoon, 474

Foraker, Joseph B., 416, 417, 472,
492, 495

Ford, Henry, 430

Ford's Theatre, 42

France: Moroccan crisis (J905),
447; Panama CanaJ attempt,
465; arbitration treaty proposed,
558; World War I, 597; Versail-
les treaty, 621

Franz, Ferdinand, 593, 597

Frascr, James Earle, 626

Frick, Henry C., 41 1, 418, 425, 482

Frohman, Charles, 603
Funston, Maj. Gen. Frederick, cap-
tures Aguinaldo, 356, 388

Garfield, James A., 176, 178, 180,
200, 560, 585

Garland, Hamlin, 245

Gary, Elbert H., 482

George V, 622 f.

George, Henry, 236, 238 f.

George, W. L., 630

Germany: World War I, 593 ff;
sinking of Lusitama, 593, 602 f.;
U.S. declares war, 594, 608; asks
for peace negotiations, 615

Gibson, Charles Dana, 426

Gillam, his cartoons, 200, 255, 412

Glackens, Louis M., cartoon, 488

Glavis, Louis, 523

Godkin, E. L., 200, 227, 237, 334

Goethals, Col. George W, 467

Gold: discoveries in West, 87; in
Alaska, 389, 394; market cor-
nered (1869), 103, 106, 107; vs.
silver debates, 257-58; reserve
under Cleveland (1893), 261

Gompers, Samuel, 195, 225

Gorgas, Gen. William C., 465 f.,
469

Gorky, Maxim, 497

Gould, George J., 418

Gould, Jay, 103, 106, 168, 182, 184

Grant, Ulysses S.: Civil War gen-
eral, 29, 36, 38 f., 41, 68; presi-
dential campaign (1868), 65;
family, 76 illus.; first term, 103-
13; re-elected (1872), 105, 114;
second term, 125-31, 147. Cor-
ruption under: gold conspiracy
(1869), 103, 106, 107; Alabama
claims (1871), 107; CrecUt Mobi-
lier, 104, 105, 108; Tweed Ring,

104, 109; in Congress, 103, 104;
Whisky Ring, 127, 131; Sanborn
contracts, 127, 131; Belknap
bribe, 127, 131; "Salary Grab"
Act, 127; railroads, 126. Candi-
date (1880), 178, 179; funeral
(1885), 205

Great Britain: transatlantic cable
(1858), 13; East India Company,
13; T.R. visits, 77, 79; Alabama
claims, 107; Canada- Alaska
boundary dispute, 394, 399; and
Venezuela, 397, 400; Clayton-
Bulwer Treaty, 403; Hay-
Pauncefote Treaty, 403; Moroc-
co, 447, 450-51; arbitration
treaty, 558

Greeley, Horace, 17, 105, 1 1 1, 1 13 f.

Guam, 297

Hagedorn, Hermann, 614
Hale, Eugene, 485, 544
Hale, William Bayard, 581
Hamilton, Dr. Allen McLane, 565
Hanna, Mark: and T.R, (1896),
271; Spanish- American War,
283; opposes TR. for Vice Presi-
dent, 335, 343, 344, 345; nomi-
nates McKinley, 345; T.R. offers
to campaign, 346; helps avert
coal strike, 351; advises T.R. as
President, 369, 373; 1904 cam-
paign, 410, 416, 417; death, 410

Harriman, Edward HM 374, 411,
418, 437, 482, 495

Harrison, Benjamin, election of,
227, 234, 237; as President, 243 ff.,
251 ft

Harte, Bret, 87

Harvard College, 88, 89, 151, 154,
156-57

Harvey, Charles, 52

Hawaii, annexation of, 286, 323,
331, 389

Hay, John, 243, 373, 399, 41 1; on
Spanish- American War, 297,
332; Open Door policy, 389;
Panama Canal, 404, 405; Per-
dicaris kidnaping, 410; gives T.R.
a ring, 420,471

Hayes, Rutherford B., 139, 140,
146ff., 176, 200

Haymarket Riot, 232 f.

Hays, Will, 624

Hearst, William Randolph, 289,
595

Helena, Mont., 96

Heller, Edmund, 585

Hepburn bill (1906), 472, 478 f.

Hewitt, Abram S., 236, 238

Heyburn, Weldon, 544 illus.

Hill, James J., 167, 355, 374, 457,
544

Hitler, Adolf, 249

Hobson, Richmond Pearson, 307,
312

Holmes, Oliver Wendell, 87, 157,
497

Homestead Act (1862), 102

Hooker, Gen. Joseph, 29, 35

House, Col. E. M., 576

Hubbard, Elbert, 603

Hughes, Charles Evans, 500, 594,
606 f.

Hyde, James Hazen, 425, 436

Immigration in U.S.: in 1865-75,
96, 97; in 1880s, 167-68; in
1890s, 425; in 1905, 444; New
York City as center of, 56, 172

Interstate commerce, 227, 472,
478, f., 491

Ireland (Archbishop), 494

Iron Ore, weekly newspaper, 588

James, Henry, 244 f.

Japan: Russo-Japanese War, 445-
49, 453-55; Taft visits, 446, 452;
Imperial family, 452; American
troubles with (1905-7), 485-89;
exclusion of Japanese from schools
(1906), 485, 489; compromise,
486, 489; U.S. fleet visits, 487,
490

Johns Hopkins University, 575,
579 f.

Johnson, Andrew, 409; becomes
President, 6 1 ; impeachment, 64,
72, 73; Reconstruction policy, 62,
63, 66, 67; Tenure of Office Act,
72 f.

Johnson, Herbert, cartoon, 546

Jusserand, Jules, 445, 524

Kansas City Star, 621, 625

Kean, John, 544

Kemble, E. W., his cartoons, 484,

494, 539, 553, 554, 560, 570, 571
Keppler, Joseph, his cartoons, 108,

128, 178, 247,418, 420
Kipling, Rudyard, 243, 245, 260,

355, 620
Kirby, Roll in, his cartoons, 570,

601 f., 606

Knabenshuc, Roy, 433
Knickerbocker Trust Co., failure

(1907), 482
Knox College, 346
Komura, Jutaro, 454
KuKluxKlan, 65, 71

Labor: Coxey's "Army," 258, 262-
63; demands in 1870s, 128; eight-
hour day, 424; Greenback-Labor
movement (1878), 127

Labor, strikes: coal (1902), 370,
371, 375, 383-86; first nation-
wide (1887), 126; Homestead,
254; Pullman, 264; under Cleve-
land, 226, 231, 232, 233

Labor organizations: A.F. of L.,
226; Brotherhood of Locomotive
Engineers, 126; Knights of Labor,
126, 225i 226, 231, 255; "Molly
Maguires," 126; Patrons of Hus-
bandry, 126

La Foilette, Robert, 545, 548, 551,
555, 561

Lambert, Dr. Alexander, 450, 466,
469

Lang, Gregor, 203, 208

Langley, Samuel P., 423

Lawson, Thomas, 476

League of Nations, 619

Lee, Arthur Hamilton, 542, 571,
585

Lee, Gen. Robert E., 29, 34, 36, 38,
41

Leslie, Mrs. Frank, 272

Lincoln, Abraham: debates with
Douglas, 13 f.; presidential can-

didate (1860), 30 f.; first inaugu-
ral, 32; Civil War, 29, 34 ff., 42;
second inaugural, 40 f.; death,
29, 42; funeral, 43, 502, 505,
544, 601

Lloyd George, David, 621
Lodge, Henry Cabot, 205, 209, 224,
235, 238, 243, 270, 277, 296, 297,
336, 349, 357, 384, 454, 486, 51 1,
534, 537, 544 illus.; 1880 letter,
169; helps T.R. get McKinley
appointment, 284; advises T.R.
to take Vice Presidency, 335,
341, 343; predicts T.RJs Presi-
dency, 355; coal strike, 371; Ca-
nadian boundary jurist, 399;
Republican platform (1904),
410; chairman 1908 convention,
492

Locb, William, 492, 500, 501
Long, John D., 281, 284, 290 ff.,

373

Long, W J., 497
Longfellow, Henry W, 496
Longworth, Alice. See Roosevelt,

Alice

Longworth, Nicholas, 461 f.
Lowell, James Russell, 497
Lowry, cartoon, 504
Lusitama sunk, 593, 602, 603

Macauley, Charles R., his cartoons,
396, 539, 549, 566, 569

Mahan, Alfred Thayer, 286

Maine, the, explosion of, 282 f., 288

Manhattan Elevated Railway, 182,
184

Marshall, John, 621

Matthews, Brander, 498

McAdoo, William Gibbs, 581

McClellan, Gen. George B., 29, 34 f.

McCutcheon, John, cartoon, 614

McKinley, William: as Congress-
man on tariff reform (1887), 227;
as chairman of Ways and Means
Committee, 252; presidential
candidate in 1896, 271, 280; in
1900, 335, 344, 345, 349, 350,
352, 353; as President: appoints
T.R. Asst. Sec. of Navy, 281, 284;
Spanish -American War, 281, 282,
283, 297, 302, 319, 323, 326, 332;
inauguration (1901), 354; and the
Philippines, 355, 356; assassina-
tion, 356, 357, 360, 361; death,
357, 362, 364, 373

Meade, Gen. George, 29, 35, 38

Meat-packing industry: growth
after Civil War, 85; meat-inspec-
tion bill, 473, 476; suits against,
472

Merrifield, William, 203, 208, 2 1 1 f.,
217,221

Miles, Gen. Nelson A., 292, 311;
quarrels with T.R., 494

Milwaukee, T.R. shot at (1912),
572

Minot, Henry, 160

Mitchell, John, 37 1,383

Moore & Schley, 482 f.

Morgan, J. Pierpont: helps avert
coal strike, 351; and U.S. Steel,
355; aids in settling coal strike,
371, 383, 384, 385; 1904 cam-

637

638

paign, 418, 457; Panic of 1907,

482, 544
Morgan, Matt, hit cartoons, 1 10,

112, 130

Morlcy, John, 457
Morocco: Algeciras Conference,

447; Kaiser Wil helm's visit, 450-

5 1 ; Roosevelt's intervention, 445-

Muckrakers, 476
Mugwumps, 169, 201, 225
Mulligan letters, 200

Nast, Thomas, 88, 105; his car-
toons, 60, 66, 67, 107, 109, 113,
114, 124, 128, 131, 149, 179, 198,
277

"New Freedom," 577, 584

New Nationalism, 542, 551, 584

New York City, general descriptions:
in 1858, 13, 15 f., 20 f; at close of
Civil War, 45 f., 50 f.; in 1880,
167, 172 f.; in 1919, 630 f. Places
and events: Brooklyn Bridge, 167;
celebrations, Armistice, 618,
T.R.'s return from Europe, 538 f.;
Chatham Street, 23; City Hall,
13, 16, 22, 43; Coney Island,
438 f., Custom House, 23; ele-
vated railroad, 52, 172; Fifth
Avenue (1858), 15, 21; Five
Points, 23; Greenwich Avenue,
633; Harbor, 22; James Street,
22; Liberty Loan parade, 622;
Madison Square, 275, 437, 632;
Metropolitan Museum of Art,
18, 172; Metropolitan Opera
House, 167; Museum of Natural
History, 18, 587; Park Avenue,
632; Park Row, 633; population
in 1858, 15, in 1880, 167, in 1919,
630; Produce Exchange, 145;
Roxy Theater, 633; saloons, 56,
270 f., 277 f.; schools (1870), 84;
slums, 15 f., 22 f., 45, 54 f.; Mu-
nicipal Health Board, 140, 167 f. ,
173, 190, 195, 273, 425; social
life, 175, 187, 272, 425, 440;
Staten Island, 16; Stock Ex-
change, 106; Telephone Ex-
change, 173; theater (1858), 17,
after Civil War, 50, 58 f., in 1900s,
424; Union Square, 51

New York Journal, Cuban stories,
281,288,289

New York Post, denounces T.R. as
radical, 543

New York Sun, 185; on T.R. as
President, 369; endorses T.R. in
1904, 411; accuses T.R. of being
revolutionist, 568

New York Times, 139; for T.R. as
Mayor, 236; on Sherman Silver
Purchase Act, 261; poll on T.R.
(1907), 491; and T.R. on direct
primary, 547; on difference be-
tween T.R. and Taft, 562; T.R.'s
sanity questioned, 565; on 1912
campaign, 567

New York TnkwM, 17, 53, 63, 105;
against T.R.'s saloon closing, 270;
predicts T.R. as President (1920),
620

New York World, on T.R. as Police
Commissioner, 269, 271 ; Cuban

stories, 281, 289; on 1904 cam-
paign, 418; on T.R.'s death, 626

Newett, George S., sued by T.R. for
libel, 585 f., 588 f.

Nicaragua, 403 f.

Nickelodeons, 423

Norris, George W, 545

Northern Securities Co., 370, 374,
412

Open Door policy, 389
Opper, Joseph, cartoon, 234
Osborn, Henry Fairfield, 532
Outlook, The, 493, 543, 558, 561, 593,
598

Panama Canal, 402 ff., 465 ff.;
Clayton-Bulwcr Treaty, 403;
DeLesseps, 403, 465; Hay-
Pauncefote Treaty, 403; Hay-
Herran Treaty, 404; Bunau-
Varilla, 403 ff.; Spooner Act, 404,
406; Colombian revolt, 404 f.;
Panama Republic, 404 f.; Gule-
bra Cut, 407, 467 f.; T.R. visits,
464, 466, 468 ff.; yellow fever and
Gorgas, 465 f., 469; T. P. Shonts,
466

Parker, Alton B., 410-11, 417

Partridge, Bernard, cartoon, 502

Payn, Lou, 335, 339

Paync-Aldrich bill, 542, 544

People's party. See Populists

Perdicaris, Ian, 4 10

Pershing, Gen. John, 61 3, 622

Philadelphia: Centennial Fair
(1876), 139, 142, 143; party for
Gen. Grant, 176

Philippine Islands: Spanish -Ameri-
can War, 295, 297, 300 f., 323,
331 f.; insurgents, 323; guerrilla
war, 355, 387 f., 390 ff.; recon-
struction, 388

Pigskin Library, 5 19

Pinchot, Gifford, 473, 523, 541,
542, 560

Pittsficld, Mass., accident, 371, 380

Platt, Thomas Collier, 410; New
York political boss, 284, 337; pro-
poses T.R. for governor, 333; at-
tempts to boss T.R., 334 f., 339 f.;
wants T.R. for Vice President,
335, 340, 342 ff., 354

Pony Express, 98-99

Pope, Gen. John, 34

Populists (People's party), 544;
formed (1890s), 255; presidential
campaign (1892), 256; William
J. Bryan candidate (1896), 271

Porter, Edwin S., 423

Porter, Gen. Horace, 38

Porter, Phil, cartoon, 558

Portsmouth, N.H., peace treaty,
453, 455

Price, Dr. Morton, 565

Princeton University, 575, 579 f.

Progressives, 513, 523, 541-45, 547-
49, 551, 552, 555, 557, 561, 568-
69,571,594

Puck, 228, 234, 239, 247, 251, 260,
261, 331, 418, 420 f., 478 ff., 500

Puerto Rico: Spanish- American
War, 297, 322; ceded to U.S.,
331 f., 355; government, 388

Pughe, J. S., his cartoons, 478, 480,

488

Pullman strike (1894), 264
Pure Food Bill, 473
Putnam, Carleton, 136

Quay, Matthew, 227, 251, 253, 344
Quigg, Lemuel Ely, 333

Railroads, 86, 90 f., 96, 126, 144,
167, 200, 203, 227, 247, 257, 264,
370, 374, 472, 478

Rawlins, Gen. John A., 38

Reconstruction, 61 ff.; carpetbag-
gers, 64, 69 f.; scalawags, 64, 69;
President Johnson and, 62 ff., 67,
72 f.; Radical Republicans, 61 ff.;
Acts of 1867, 68; Negro suffrage,
65, 68 f.; ends, 148

Red path, James, 88

Reed, Thomas B., 253, 47 1

Reid, Ogden, 621

Reid, Whitelaw, 297

Reinhart, C. S., cartoon, 148

Remington, Frederic, 328

Republican party, 14, 30 f., 61 ff,
105, 111, 139 f., 146 ff, 169,
178, 200 f, 227, 335, 344 f., 350 f.,
409 ff, 492 f., 500 f., 541 ff., 552,
555 ff, 568, 594

Richardson, William A., 127

Riis, Jacob, 140, 239, 269, 277

Robinson, E. A., 497, 629

Rockefeller, John D., 355, 482, 544

Rondon, Colonel, 587

Roosevelt, Alice, 185, 196, 237, 285,
373, 437, 452, 460 f., 463, 560

Roosevelt, Alice Lee: marriage to
T.R., 153, 159 ff, 164, 181, 240;
European trip, 181 f.; death, 185,
196 f.

Roosevelt, Anna (Cowles), 15, 155,
162,211,214,216,357,621

Roosevelt, Archibald, 285, 459,
595,621

Roosevelt, Corinne (Robinson), 28,
259, 460

Roosevelt, Cornelius Van Schaack,
14,26,43

Roosevelt, Edith Kermit Carow,
617, 621; Lincoln's funeral, 43;
childhood friend of T.R., 80, 132,
134; marriage to T.R., 235 ff.,
240, 459; visits Senate, 356, 357;
as First Lady, 460; joins T.R. in
Africa, 517; goes to South Amer-
ica, 586

Roosevelt, Elliott, 28, 43, 1 15, 163,
196, 259

Roosevelt, Ethel (Derby), 285, 517

Roosevelt, Franklin Delano, 193,
536 f., 586, 610

Roosevelt, Kermit, 285, 411, 453,
456, 459, 468, 485, 491, 625; in
Africa, 516; in South America,
586 f., 590 f.; in World War, 595

Roosevelt, Margaret Barnhill, 26

Roosevelt, Martha Bulloch, 14, 18,
27, 185, 196

Roosevelt, Quentin, 285, 459, 595,
604, 613 f.

Roosevelt, Theodore, biography:

Childhood, 1858-70: ancestry, 14, 26;
birth, 14, 19; in Civil War times,
28 ff.; diaries, 78 f., 81 f.; Euro-

pean trip, 77 f.; health in, 28, 47,
49, 74; naturalist, 47, 49, 75, 79;
reading, love of, 47, 78

Adolescence, 1871-75: improving
health in, 115 f., 120, 134; natu-
ralist, 116, 118, 120, 123, 135;
preparing for college, 127, 133,
135 f.; trip to Europe and Near
East, 105, 115 f.; social life, 134

In Harvard, 1876-80: academic
progress, 151, 158 f.; Alice Lee,
153, 160 f.; begins writing career,
152; clubs, 156 f.; moralist, 155;
reading, 152; social life, 153, 159;
sports, 152, 163

Marriage to Alice Lee, 1880-84, 153,
159 if., 164, 181, 185, 196; be-
lated European honeymoon,

181 f., 188 f.; Columbia Law
School, 167, 186 f.; Twenty-6rst
District Republican Club, 181;
delegate to Republican Nomi-
nating Convention (1884), 169,
202; support of Blaine, 169, 201 f.

Writing Career, 1881 -: The Naval War
of 1812, 181, 194; Hunting Trips of
a Ranchman, 204, 205, 218, 225,
241; Ranch Life and the Hunting
Trail, 206, 235, 241; Biography of
Thomas Hart Benton, 235, 241;
Biography ofGouvemeur Morris, 237,
241 ; The Winning of the West, 237,
241, 243 f, 257; City of New Tork,
241, African Game Trails, 514, 519;
An Autobiography, 585; The Outlook,
493, 543, 558, 561 , 593, 598; Met-
ropolitan Magazine, 593; Scribner's
Magazine, 514,516,591

Legislator at Albany, 1882-84, 169,

182 f.; West brook investigation,
182, 194; Aldcrmanic Bill, 183;
bills supported, 185; election ex-
penses (1882), 195; New York
State Convention (1885), 205

In the Bad Lands, 1883-87: hunting
trips, 185, 203 f., 206, 208, 211,
214, 217; ranchman, 203, 206 ff.;
Maltese Cross ranch, 203, 212 f.;
Elkhorn ranch, 203 f., 215, 218,
220 f; captures boat thieves, 205,
224; challenged to duel by De
Mores, 203, 223; Medora, 203,
206, 222; cowboys, 210, 213;
liquidated ranch holdings (1887),
204, 237

Marriage to Edith Carow, 1886, 205,
235 ff., 240, 459

Family Life, 285, 356, 456 ff., 617;
Sagamore Hill, 205, 237, 264,
356, 456, 459 f, 543, 547, 616,
621, 625; in Washington (1889-
95), 243 f.; in the White House,
372

Morality, 155, 458 f., 471, 496 f.

Candidate for Mayor of New Tork,
1886, 236, 238 f.; backs Harrison
(1888), 237

Civil Service Commissioner, 1889-95,
242 ff., 248 ff., 257, 259; friend-
ship with Kipling, 243, 245, 260;
on Venezuelan boundary dispute,
266

Police Commissioner, 1895-97, 268 ff.,
277 ff.; enforces saloon-closing
law, 270 f., 277 ff.

Assistant Secretary of Wavy, 1897-98,
271, 281 ff., 300; letter to Capt.
Mahan, 286

Spanish-American War, 1898, 281 ff.,
288 ff., 290, 292 ff.

Governor of New York, 1898-1900:
candidate, 324, 327, 333 f., 336 f.;
in Albany, 334 f.; relations with
Platt, 334 f., 339 f.; Dewey cele-
bration, 338; Lou Payn, 339;
"Big stick" policy, 339, 396, 397 f.

Vice Presidency, 1901: does not want,
335, 341 f.; nominated for, 345;
campaign, 205, 335, 346, 349,
351 f.; election to, 353 f.; presides
over Senate, 356, 358 f.; at Oyster
Bay, 356; plans to resume law
studies, 356; McKinley's assassi-
nation, 356 f., 360 f.

Presidency, 1901-8: predictions of,
355; takes oath of office, 357, 364;
upsets precedent, 369 f. ; Northern
Securities suit, 370, 374, 412;
coal strike (1902), 370 f., 375,
383 f.; visit of German Prince,
373; speaking tour ( 1902), 376 f;
Pittsficld accident, 371, 380, 382;
Venezuelan controversy, 397,
400; help for Santo Domingo,

398, 401 ; Alaskan boundary dis-
pute, 394, 399; "Big stick" policy,
396, 397 f.; Roosevelt Corollary,

399, 401; opinion of Colombia,
402; Panama Canal, 403 ff., 464
ff.; imperialist beliefs, 408; cam-
paign (1904), 409 ff.; Western
speaking tour (1903), 414 ff.;
tariffs, 409; veterans' pensions,
409; Perdicaris kidnaping, 410;
re-election, 411; inauguration
(1905), 420 f.; peacemaker
(1905); Russo-Japanese War,
445 f., 451, 453 ff., Morocco, 445
f., Nobel Peace Prize, 454; against
predatory rich, 471 ff; Hepburn
Bill, 472, 478 f.; Pure Food Bill,
473; meat inspection, 473, 476;
conservation, 473, 477; Panic of
1907, 482; Tenn. Coal & Iron
Co., 482; troubles with Japan
(1905-7), 485 f.; San Francisco
school exclusion, 485, 488; U.S.
fleet on world cruise, 486 f., 490,
506; troubles with Congress
( 1 907), 491 ; progressive proposals
(1907), 491; choosing Taft as
successor, 493 f., 500 f.; attacks
on Foraker, 493; plans African
trip, 493; quarrels with Gen.
Miles, 494; Maria Storer, 494;
Foraker, 495; Harriman, 495,
simplified spelling, 498; visits
Lincoln's 100th anniversary, 505;
Taft's inauguration, 507

Trip to Africa and Europe, 1909-10,
511 ff.; in Egypt, 511, 517, 519;
in Europe, 511 f., 520 f.; Ro-
manes lecture, 511 f., 532; at
Sorbonne, 511; Guild Hall
speech, 513, 531; at Cambridge,
532 f.; in Norway, 511; in Ger-
many, 525 f.; in France, 524; in
Italy, 520 f.; in Rome, 512, 521;
funeral of Edward VII, 528;
opinions on European royalty,

511, 513, 521, 528; homecoming,
513, 534 f., 538

Private Citizen, 1910-12: promises
Taft to remain silent, 541, 547,
549; Western speaking tour
(1910), 542 f., 551 f.; New Na-
tionalism, 542, 55 1 ; speculation
on future, 543, 548; urged to be
presidential candidate, 543; in-
surgent Republicans, 545, 547 f.,
555; break with Taft, 523, 541 f.,

560 f.; direct primary fight, 549,
557, 562, 565; midterm election
(1910), 552

Bull Moose candidate, 1912, 555 ff.,

561 f.; T.R. and Taft as oppo-
nents, 556 f, 561 f., 564; Cre-
dentials Committee, 557, 566;
Armageddon speech, 557; U.S.
Steel suit, 543, 561; T.R.'s sanity
questioned, 556, 565; national
conventions (1912), 568; shot at
in Milwaukee, 572 f.; election
defeat, 574

Libel suits: against Newett (1913),
585 f., 588 f.; Barnes against T.R.
(1915), 600 f.

Trip to South America, 1913-14, 586 f.,
590 ff.

World War: first reactions to, 593,
598 f.; preparedness speeches,
595; hatred of Wilson, 575, 622,
624; opinions in 1915, 594, 599,
602; sinking of Lusitania, 603;
"Plattsburg idea," 604; criticizes
Wilson's stand, 593 f., 606 f.; asks
to raise division, 595, 610; war
speeches (1917), 612; sons with
A.E.F., 595, 613; Qucntin killed,
595, 614; opinion of Wilson's
Fourteen Points, 619, 623; Armi-
stice, 618

1916-19: endorses Hughes (1916),
594, 606; asked to run for N.Y.
Governor, 620; midterm elections
(1918), 620; opinion on Bolshev-
ism, 620; death, 621, 624 ff.

Roosevelt, Theodore, Jr., 237, 249,
285, 595, 621

Roosevelt, Theodore, Sr., 14, 18,
27, 153, 158

Root, Elihu, 357, 371, 373, 398 f.,
486, 492, 494, 498, 501, 541 f.,
568

Rosen, Baron Roman, 454

Rough Riders. See Spanish-Ameri-
can War

Round Robin, 297, 320 f.

Russell, Charles, 476

Russia: war with Japan, 445 ff,
453 ff; World War I, 597; T.R.
on Communist revolution, 620

Sagamore Hill, Oyster Bay, 205,

237, 241, 264, 356, 456, 459 f.,

543,547,616,621,625
"Salary-Grab" Act, 127
Saltonstall, Richard, 153, 156, 160 f.
Sampson, Adm. T, 296, 307, 31 1 ff,

318,494
San Francisco, excludes Japanese

from schools (1906), 485 ff.
Santiago, 306 f., 312 f., 319
Santo Domingo, 401
Sayre, Francis Bowes, 581

639

Schley, Adm. Winfield S., 494

Schurz, Carl, 176, 184, 202, 245,
334

Scott, Gen. Winfield, 29, 34

Sewall, Bill, 204, 220 £, 224

Seward, William H., 14, 30

Shatter, Gen. William R., 297, 313,
318, 320

Sherman, Gen. William X, 29, 39

Sherman Anti-Trust Act, 412, 472,
561

Shonts, Theodore P., 466, 469

Sinclair, Upton, 476

Smoot, Reed, 544

Soo Canal, 52

Spanish- American War: in Cuba,
281 ff., 288, 296 ff., 302, 306 f.,
312 ff., 318 f.; Rough Riders,
295 ff., 304 f., 308 ff., 314 ff.,
326, 328; in the Philippines, 295,
300 f., 323; in Puerto Rico, 322;
Wake Island, 322; Hawaii, 331;
treaty with Spain, 297, 332, 355

S.P.C.A., 51

S.P.C.C., 140

Spelling, simplified, 498

Spencer, cartoon, 589

Spring-Rice, Cecil, 236, 243, 285,
407,445,517,593

Standard Oil Co., 472, 479, 491,
493

Stanton, Edwin, 64, 73

Steel industry, 85, 92

Steffens, Lincoln, 476

Stephens, Uriah S., 126, 231

Stevens, John F., 467

Stevens, Thaddcus, 62 ff., 72 f.

Stevenson, Adlai E., 225

Stimson, Henry L., 549, 552

Storer, Bellamy, 284, 494

Storer, Maria Longworth, 281, 494

Street, Julian, 457

Stuart, Phil, 450

Sullivan, Mark, 460

Syracuse, N.Y., 601

Taft, William Howard, 169, 243,
412, 450, 514, 536, 620; predicts
T.R.'s Presidency, 355; Gover-
nor of Philippines, 388, 392; Sec-
retary of War, 446, 452; selected as
T.R.'s successor, 492 f, 500 ff.;
elected President, 493, 503; in-
auguration, 506 ff.; dismisses
Pinchot, 523, 545; inept poli-
tician, 541 f., 545 f.; and Payne-
Aldrich bill, 542, 544; supports
Cannon, 545; presidential candi-
date (1912), 555 ff., 562 ff.;
friendship with T.R. broken,
556 f., 560 ff., 573; at Wilson
inaugural, 582; at T.R.'s funeral,
628

Takahira, Kogoro, 454

Tammany Hall, 577

Tarbell, Ida M., 476

Telephone, 143, 173,429

Tennessee Coal & Iron Co., 482 f.,
543, 561

Tenure of Office Act, 64, 72 f,

Theater: in 1850s, 17; Ford's The-
ater, 42; in New York City after
Civil War, 47, 50. Actors, singers,

performers: Maude Adams, 424,
434; George Arliss, 435; Ethel
Barrymore, 424, 435; Sarah
Bernhardt, 435; Enrico Caruso,
424, 434; John Drew, 50, 424;
Geraldine Farrar, 424; Minnie
Fiske, 435; Floradora girls, 430,
434; Forbes Robertson, 435; Wil-
liam Gillette, 424; Richard
Mansfield, 424; Julia Marlowe,
424; Adah Isaacs Menken, 58;
Ada Rehan, 50, 424; Lillian
Russell, 435; E. H. Sot hern, 424;
Lydia Thompson girls, 59; David
Warfield, 435; Florenz Ziegfeld,
424

Tilden, Samuel J., 139, 146 ff.

Tillman, "Pitchfork Ben," 472

Tolstoy, Leo, 496

"Tranquillity," 134, 137, 181

Transatlantic cable, 1 3

Treaty of Paris (1898), 297, 332,
355

Trcvelyan, George Otto, 396, 421,
471

Truman, Harry S., 325

Trusts: in 1904, 471; Northern
Securities Co., 370, 374, 412;
Standard Oil, 230; T.R. as
"trustbuster," 377, 412, 471 f.;
U.S. Steel, 355, 472

Tumulty, Joseph P., 581, 622

Twain, Mark, 87, 88, 387, 442 f.,
519

Tweed, William, and "Tweed Ring"
in New York City, 104, 109

Tyler, John, 409

Union League Club, 27, 62, 64
Union Pacific Railroad, 86, 91
U.S. Steel Corp., 355, 472; and

Tennessee Coal & Iron Co.,

482 f., 543, 561

Vanderbilt, Alfred Gwynne, 436,

603
Vanderbilt, Alva Smith (Mrs. Wm.

K.), 174f.

Vanderbilt, Cornelius, 14, 174
Vanderbilt, William Henry, 174,

272, 425, 544
Vfmdcrbilt, William Kissam, 168,

174 f.

Van Wyck, Augustus, 334, 337
Vatican, T.R.'s disagreement with,

512,521
Venezuela: boundary dispute,

266 f.; test of Monroe Doctrine

(1901), 397,400
Versailles treaty (1919), 621, 622,

634

Victor Emmanuel III, 521
Victoria, Queen, 13
Von Bernstorff, Count, 608
Von Slatin, Rudolf Carl, 517 f.
Von Sternburg, Count Speck, 445

Wake Island, 322
Wallace, Henry, Sr., 560
Wallace, John F., 468
Wanamaker, John, 244, 251
Washington, D.C.: Capitol (1861),
32; Lincoln's second inaugural,

41; patent office, 94; street scene
(1889), 242; life in, in 1890s,
244; Coxey's "Army" in, 262 f.;
White House reception (1902),
372; Smithsonian Institution,
514

Washington, Booker T, 369, 372
Webster, Harold T, his cartoons,

564, 567

Weitzel, Gen. Theodore, 42
Wells, Fargo, 99
Wesleyan University, 575, 580
Westbrook, Theodore, 182, 194
Wester-man, cartoon, 504
Wheeler, Gen. Joseph, 308, 312
White, Henry, 447, 560, 585
White, William Allen, 473, 523,

620

Whitman, Walt, 496
Whittier, John Greenleaf, 497
Wilcox, Ansley, 357, 364
Wilder, Ralph, cartoon, 546
Wilheim II, Emperor, 445, 447,

450 f., 525 f.

Williams, John Sharp, 593
Wilson, Ellen Louise Axson, 579 ff.
Wilson, James and Anne, 578
Wilson, Joseph and "Jessie," 578
Wilson, '(Thomas) Woodrow, 288,
571, 573, 575; ancestry, 578;
early life, 575, 578; at Princeton,
579 f; as teacher, 575 f., 580;
Governor of New Jersey, 575,
581; accepts presidential nomi-
nation, 570; as candidate (1912),
568, 570, 576 f; elected Presi-
dent, 557, 574; inaugural (1913),
Women's suffrage, 14, 141, 424
577, 582 ff.; "New Freedom"
doctrine, 577, 584; writes Con-
gressional Government, 579; sinking
ofLusitama, 593, 602 f,; neutrality
policy of, 593 f, 603; presiden-
tial campaign (1916), 594, 606 f. ;
declaration of war (1917), 594,
608; T.R. asks to recruit a divi-
sion, 595, 610; re-elected Presi-
dent (1916), 594, 607; Fourteen
Points, 615, 619, 621; goes to
France (1918), 621 ff.; in Eng-
land, 622 f.; and Versailles treaty,
634

Wister, Owen, 457
Witte, Count Serge, 454
Woman's Medical College of Pa.,

432

Wood, Leonard: colonel in Span-
ish-American War, 295, 304 f.,
308 f.; made a general, 315,
320 f.; attacks yellow fever, 355;
military commander of Cuba,
388; Plattsburg idea, 604
World War I, 593 ff., 597 ff., 602 ff.
Wright brothers, 423, 431

Young, Brigham, 87

Zahn, Rev. John A., 586
Ziegfeld, Florenz, 424
Zimmerman, Eugene ("Zim"), car-
toon, 474
Zola, Emile, 496

640

143 304

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